


home is just a room full of my safest sounds

by pinkish



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Frottage, Happy Ending, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Sexting, Texting, fears about homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8811700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkish/pseuds/pinkish
Summary: Sidney and Tyler are happy. Their friends think they're lonely, so they're always trying to fix them, but they really *are* happy. When Sidney and Tyler start talking, thanks to Jamie's overprotective meddling, they start to learn that you can be happy in a lot of different ways.





	1. can't feel no remorse

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the playlist that matches the song lyric chapter titles if you want to listen along :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLa2OFuR_s-FpVgljbQkwggcjH7RN5YoIg
> 
> NB: the fic is pretty time-jumpy...it's the longest fic I've ever written and I still feel like it could be twice as long, but I wanted to get it OUT, so I skipped a lot of details.
> 
> if you know any of the people in this fic irl for god's sake please leave immediately

_September_

Life's never been better for Tyler. There hasn't been a scandal for, like, a year, he's producing _really_ well on-ice, his dogs are happy, his friends are happy, and he gets laid pretty much whenever he wants.

It's kind of the best.

He says this to Jamie, the next time they're lounging in his backyard, throwing slobbery tennis balls for Cash and Marshall.

"That's all you need?" Jamie says this with a raised eyebrow, but he tips his beer in Tyler's direction, acknowledging Tyler's awesome life as worthy of, at least, a drink. "No scandals, good hockey, good dogs, good friends, and good sex?"

"Uh yeah," Tyler scoffs, "What planet do you come from that that doesn't sound amazing?"

"I dunno," Jamie tilts his head up to the sky, squinting in the sunlight, "someone who greets you at home with a hug? Someone who's gonna hold you when you're having a shitty day and tell you that everything will be okay? Someone who wants to talk to you when they're happy? A home?"  
  
"Hey, my dogs greet me when I get home!" Tyler says, mostly to avoid reacting to the rest of the sentence. Jamie's known him long enough, though, not to fall for that.

"Yeah, Seggs, but what about the other stuff?" Jamie's still got his head tilted back, but his eyes are closed now, and he's got that stupid look on his face that he's had since he met Katie.

Tyler takes a swig of beer, sets the bottle down, and reaches to scratch behind Cash's ears.

"You know," Tyler says, "you've become a real sap since you fell in love."

"It does that to a person," Jamie laughs, but lets Tyler get away with it this time. "As long as you're happy, man."

"Yeah," Tyler says, as he chucks the tennis ball on Jamie's lap. The dogs race for Jamie and get paws and slobber all over his lap and Tyler laughs at three of his favourite creatures playing in his backyard.

He is happy, is the thing.

But that night, and a lot of nights after, Tyler curses Jamie Benn. Because ever since Jamie said all that stuff about having someone there for you -- someone you can be there for, too -- Tyler's been thinking. Tyler does not like thinking.

He's not an idiot, but he'd rather let the moment unfold how it'll unfold. It's gotten him in trouble a few times, but it's also led to the best moments of his life. Thinking usually makes him feel bad, so why bother? But he's been noticing, now -- the married guys, the guys with girlfriends who will soon be wives, the guys with kids at home: there's something in the way they hold their bodies that Tyler hadn't noticed before. There's like, this -- something. There's a lightness to them that, well. After a hard practice, after a rough game, during a long road trip, even when those guys with families waiting for them to come back look sadder, more tired than the single guys, there's always a moment when one of the married guys gets a call or a text and it's like the rest of the world just floats into the background. They come out of it maybe not happier, because they're still in Columbus or Winnipeg or Arizona instead of home -- but they look like they're closer to home than Tyler feels. It's hard to get that feeling from his dogs, no matter how many times he convinces his dogsitter to let him facetime with them.

And sure, Jamie and Jordie are family, and they're with him on the road and on the ice, but Jamie was right, damn him.

Tyler's happy, but he could be happier. And that's such a dangerous thing to think: bad things tend to happen when Tyler believes he deserves to be happier.

There was that time, back in Boston, when he told a trainer that he might like to date a guy sometime, just to test the waters, and the guy made this face and whispered (but, like, loud and angry so why did he even bother whispering?) that Tyler should be careful not to say that kind of stuff. So Tyler laughed it off, turned it into a joke about not having to pay for drinks, and made sure he was extra-straight for the next few months (so he tweeted "no homo", and then the whole Facebook message thing happened and now he's never gonna get rid of that).

Then there was that time when he won the cup, and he thought, _Shit -- I could make a home here_ and then they traded him away because of course they did. Boston didn't want to be home for Tyler, and that was the first time he'd had his heart broken.

And, yeah, moving to Dallas turned out to be the best thing ever, but Tyler's been trying really, really hard not to fuck it up.  It feels too dangerous to try for something more, when it's already this great.

If he's happy as it is, why risk it?

He can usually convince himself of that after an anxious evening at home or in a hotel room, or after trading orgasms with a hot, no strings pickup who doesn't expect or want Tyler to call her back. But then he'll see Jamie on the phone with Katie, or Sharpy when Abby and the girls meet him at the airport and it's like he can see the thread that connects them to each other, to _home_. And if it feels awesome when he comes home to the sound of claws clicking and sliding against tile and hardwood as his puppies run to greet him, he can admit to himself that it's not quite the same. 

He's still ruminating on this weeks later, when he and Jamie are back in the backyard, a little colder now, a little less sunlight, but no lack of slobbery tennis balls or beer, so it's still good.

"So it's," Jamie pauses, like this is a hard idea to get around, " _my_ fault you've been pissy?"

"Exactly!" Tyler punctuates this with a swig of beer. He gestures to Jamie with the non-beer hand and continues, "I was happy, man! Still am, just…I see the gaps, now."

Jamie raises an eyebrow, but waits for Tyler to continue.

"Like," Tyler forgets he's got beer in his other hand and accidentally sloshes some on his shorts, "shit." He wipes the beer into the fabric, using the moment to collect himself a little more. "Like it's not like I'm _un_ happy. I can just see the places where I could be, you know, happi _er_."

"And that makes you grumpy." Jamie doesn't say it like a question.

"Yeah, because -- you know." Tyler shrugs, embarrassed at how much he doesn't want to look Jamie in the eye.

Jamie sighs, "Sorry, bud. I was just -- I want you to have it, too, you know? If you want it."

"Yeah."

"Do you?" Jamie asks.

"Do I what?" Tyler mimic's Jamie's voice, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"Want a home with someone?"

Tyler knocks back the rest of his beer and grunts as he levers himself out of the chair, "I don't know."

Jamie follows him into the house, clapping for the dogs to stop playing around in the grass.

"Well, then," Jamie says, once they're in Tyler's kitchen, "let's figure out what you want, and then we'll get it for you. Maybe find you a girlfriend? A wife?"

Tyler's heart kind of constricts at this, but when he looks at Jamie, he can see that Jamie's trying to be a goofball, so he lets out a laugh. "Oh right! I forgot it was that easy: what is it, the _Secret_ or some bullshit?"

"Yep," Jamie overpronounces the 'p' and spreads his arms wide like he's an evangelist, "We just need to put it out in the world, and then _poof_ your life will change!"

"I don't know if I'm the girlfriend type, though," Tyler turns to open the fridge so he doesn't have to face Jamie.

"Isn't the plan to get you a girlfriend?" Jamie laughs a little awkwardly; Tyler can feel the uncertainty vibrating off of him.

"Yeah," Tyler says, "but also like, maybe I don't want a _girl_ friend?" He emphasizes the word 'girl' and regrets it immediately. 

It's quiet for a few seconds, and Tyler can feel his face and then his chest and soon his hands and fingers heat and tingle. He hasn't had a panic attack since the first year he got here, but his heart is starting to beat a little too quickly.

He's so focused on how his body is betraying him that he doesn't hear Jamie come up behind him until he jumps at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Fuck!"

"Sorry!" Jamie's hand tightens on his shoulder, "Sorry, Seggs. Didn't mean to scare you. Just -- I support you, whether you want a lady or a guy at home. I'm here for you, always." 

Tyler starts to shake and he considers letting Jamie worry about it for a while, but he's a combination of terrified and relieved, so he lets Jamie see that he's laughing. "Did Katie teach you how to say that?"

"Fuck off," Jamie grumbles, but he pulls Tyler into a hug and Tyler lets himself be comforted, smooshing his face into Jamie's shoulder. "I don't know what to say now," Jamie whispers and Tyler can hear the panic in his voice.

"'Scool, Chubbs," Tyler says, still laughing at his awesome giant dork of a friend, "I don't know either."

"Cool."

They end the hug with a manly back pat, and Tyler can't look Jamie in the eye until his blush recedes, but eventually it does, and eventually the dogs start roughhousing in the kitchen, breaking the moment before it gets too weird.


	2. watching from outer space

_October_

 

 _Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap tap._  

The rhythm of his fingers against his leg isn't something Sidney means to do, really. He doesn't know he's doing it half the time, and when he does notice (or notices people noticing), he usually stops.

But it helps, sometimes, when the world presses in a little too hard. It's a way, maybe, to remind himself that he has a body -- as though he needs reminding that he has a body. You don't really forget that, when you're Sidney Crosby. But sometimes -- sometimes, there's so much happening that he needs to remember that his body is here.

He keeps tapping the pattern until he feels and hears the locker room coalesce around him again. Sidney's eyes focus and he grimaces in response to Flower's look of concern. He shakes his head -- _no, I'm fine, don't worry_ \-- and tries to smile so that Flower won't try to talk to him before they go out.

Sidney listens to Sully. Sidney listens to the muted roar of the crowd in the arena. He smells the cooled air and stale equipment and the locker room full of hockeysweat. He stands up when he feels the other players start to move and goes through the handshake with Geno. The tap on his ass is kind of like the taps on his thighs.

_You're here._

_Let's go._

He feels the blade of his skate land on the ice and his body reacts on its own: push, scrape, glide, lean, turn, stop. It would be as easy as breathing if Sidney didn't sometimes have trouble remembering to breathe. It's easier than breathing. This is where his body feels most present, and he closes his eyes to just sit in that feeling for a few seconds. He can't do that for long, but it's enough. Sidney takes in a breath, squares his shoulders, and plays hockey.

 

*****

 

" _Hé_ , Sid," Sidney hears someone call over his shoulder just as he's exiting the arena, " _attendez_!"

He has to look back to make sure it's who he thinks it is: Flower, doing a little half-jog to catch up to him. There's a moment when Sid considers pretending like he didn't hear Flower. He's tired after the game, but mostly after the press, and can't really handle talking to anyone right now. It wouldn't be the first time Sidney's ignored someone -- accidentally or on purpose -- and Flower'll forgive him for it. But if he does, he'll just have to deal with more next time. Better to let Flower say whatever he needs to say.

"Want to come to dinner tomorrow? Véro's making tourtière -- her mother's recipe."

Sidney smiles, "Thanks, man, but--" he waves his hand to encompass all the reasons why he's not up for dinner at the Fleurys.

"Right, of course," Flower makes a face, half-pout, half- mocking, "not in the mood." He makes air quotes with his fingers.

Sidney doesn't laugh, though, and Flower's face kind of falls.

"Ah _merde_. Sorry, Sid." Flower's smile is awkward, " _Tu nous manques, c'est tout_. The kids would love to see you, you know."

"I'd love to see them too -- Véro, too, don't you dare tell her otherwise -- but I just kind of want to be alone, yeah?"

Flower sighs, "Yeah -- don’t confuse lonely with alone, though, okay? The invitation stands any time." Flower looks at Sidney in the eyes, or tries to, and Sidney lets their eyes meet for a few seconds before looking away. He means it, Sidney thinks, and that's nice: he'll never invite himself over to the Fleurys, but it's nice to know, nonetheless.

"Of course," Sidney says, smiling, "Thanks for the invite."

Flower purses his lips and pats Sidney's upper arm, " _N'importe quand_."

Sidney watches as Flower lopes off to his own car, and lets himself imagine having a family waiting at home for him like Flower's. There's a part of it that's nice, that Sidney can admit to a little bit of longing for. The part where there's someone -- someones -- who loves him, who'll listen as he goes through the ups and downs of the day -- that seems nice. The part where there's a home with space in it that's Marc-Andre shaped, where all his pointy bits fit with theirs to make something new -- that sounds pretty nice too. It's hard to imagine having that, though. Sidney has so many pointy bits. It's a worry he keeps to himself, most of the time, because people don't like to hear that Sidney Crosby doesn't really think there's a way for him to fit into a family, doesn't really think there's a way for a family to fit him. Someday, maybe -- once the world isn't interested in Who Sidney Crosby Is, maybe.

 _Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap tap._  

He slides into the driver's seat and checks his phone -- there's usually a few messages after a game from his parents (he replies, because otherwise he'll get a phone call asking why he didn't reply) and his sister (he replies, because she doesn't need him to, but she likes it when he sends emojis -- the poop emoji is his current go-to, because she called him, laughing, after he sent it the first time). There's a message from Jamie Benn, though, which is weird. Sidney debates opening it in the car before he leaves, but he figures that Benn wouldn’t message him just to say hi, so he'll wait until he gets home. Better to wonder what's in the message a little longer than risk replying in a rush because Benn will see that he saw the message (fuck read-receipts entirely).

When he gets home, he's glad he waited.

 _Can you tell Tyler?_ is all it says. It's enough -- Sidney knows what Jamie wants him to say. His heart beats a little faster and he reminds himself to breathe. 

 **Why?** He sends back.

It doesn't take long for Benn to reply:

_He could use someone to talk to_

Sidney sighs.

  **You trust him, right?** Sidney can't help asking -- he doesn't think Jamie would ask if he didn't, but -- well, he'd worry, otherwise.

 _Yes_ , is the immediate reply, but the bubble indicating that Jamie's typing pops up again, longer this time, then:

 _You don't have to -- I just don't know how else to help him_  

Jamie is almost too earnest for Sidney -- he's used to people who do a lot more hiding, and it's hard to resist the urge to figure out what Jamie really means. But he's learned that Jamie usually says exactly what he means.

 **Ok.**  


	3. thinking i'm a monster in disguise

_October_

 

Sidney writes and discards too many messages to Tyler as he heats up his dinner.

_Hey Seggs!_

_Hello. It's Sidney_

_Sup bro_

_Jamie asked me to be your gay Big Brother and honestly that seems like a bad idea I barely know what I'm doing_

_DUUUUDE_

_[poop emoji]_

He settles on:

_Hi Tyler, Jamie asked me to get in touch with you, and hits send when the microwave beeps._

He expects to stew over the message while he eats dinner, but Tyler replies almost immediately:

 **Why???**  

Sidney picks up his phone in one hand and keeps eating with the other. He manages to swipe a response without too much trouble:

_Said you "could use someone to talk to"_

**Ugh**

**Sorry**

**I'm fine**

**He worries too much**  

Sidney's phone dings with each message, so he puts his phone on silent in order to avoid chucking it out the window.

 _Can I call?_  

He's definitely not going to have this conversation anywhere that can be screenshotted. He'll trust Tyler, but he won't trust Tyler's phone.

 **r u dying**  

Sidney considers not replying and letting Tyler panic, but he types out:

 _No I just hate texting_  

**I AM ROLLING MY EYES AT YOU OLD MAN**

_But I can call?_

**Y**  

He drops his bowl in the dishwasher and hits the call button for Tyler. His heart is pounding -- he felt like this when he was a kid and his parents made him call kids in the neighbourhood to "make friends." It's a little different, though. He doesn't resent Tyler or Jamie; if the "stuff" Tyler's going through is anything like the stuff Sidney went through in juniors, then, yeah, he could use someone to talk to. But there's still a moment of panic when he hears the call ring through: panic that Tyler won't pick up, panic that he will.

He does, of course.

"Hey," Tyler's digitized voice comes through the speaker against Sidney's ear. Sidney hears a soft grunt and then Tyler saying "Sit! Sit down! Calm! No treats if you--ugh, god dammit."

Sidney waits until the commotion dies down and for Tyler to come back to the phone call.

"Sorry, Sid -- Cash is going through a _phase_. He likes to sit on my lap when I'm on the couch and I don't think he realizes he isn't a puppy any more. I think I have more bruises from Cash than I do from hockey."

Sidney can hear the smile in Tyler's voice (Tyler always sounds like he's smiling, and, like Jamie, seems to mean it), so he smiles when he replies, "No worries. I saw the pictures from that promotional thing last week -- I can't believe how big he is now."

"Yeah, now if only I could get him to understand that puppies can jump on laps, but grown-ass dogs need to be a lot more careful in the jock region."

Sidney lets out a little laugh, and he's trying to figure out how to move the conversation along when Tyler does it for him.

"So, what was so important you couldn't tell me over text? Had to call me like we're in the '90s."

Sidney rolls his eyes, grateful Tyler can't see him. "Important maybe isn't the right word, just -- private."

"Uh, okay? I'm getting a little nervous, here," and Sidney can hear that nervousness, knows how it feels.

"I'm, uh, gay." Sidney has yet to say the words without the "uh" in the middle. Somehow, it's necessary.

"Okay…"

"Um. Jamie thought it might help if you knew that?"

"Oh."

Tyler is quiet, and Sidney can hear the dogs making noises, huffs of breath and small half-barks. After a while, the silence is unbearable, and they both speak at the same time:

"You don't have--"

"I don't know--"

"You first," they both say, then Tyler says "Jinx, buy me a coke," and that's enough to shake them out of awkwardness.

"You don't have to say anything, or if this isn't helpful you don't have to keep talking to me," Sidney manages most of the sentence without stammering, "but if it would help to talk to someone -- to me, then, I'm, you know. Here."

"I was just going to say," Tyler pauses and takes a shaky breath, "I don't know if I am. Gay. I mean, I like dick, yeah?"  
  
"That's .…good?" Sidney gets a laugh out of Tyler with that, which was mostly what he was trying to do. 

"Yeah, dick's great," Tyler says as he's laughing. He stops after a few seconds, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. He isn't whispering, but, Sidney thinks, maybe this is Tyler taking something seriously. "I just mean that I know I like guys, like having sex with guys, but sex with girls is pretty cool too."

"Wouldn't know," Sidney doesn't really mean to say it, but he's comfortable on his couch and he likes the sound of Tyler's voice in his ear.

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"I guess, I think -- I'm probably bi? But like, ugh, I kind of hate that word."

"Why?" Sidney used to wish he was bisexual, thought it would be easier, but he met a couple bisexual guys at the Olympics and they didn't have it much better: it doesn't really matter if you can date women if you still have to hide that you want to date men too.

"I dunno, it just sounds dumb. _Biiiii_ ," Tyler's voice goes high and nasal, "Bleh." Then he giggles, "Sorry -- this is weird. I'm just saying shit so I don't have to deal with how weird this is."

"Sorry."

"No, not you," Tyler's voice is clear, honest, "just the whole," a pause, "thing."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"So." Sidney clears his throat, "I guess, just, if you need like--"

"A gay Mr Miyagi?" Tyler giggles.

Sidney tries to speed past it, "Sure. If you need--"

"A Mr _Gay_ agi??" Tyler's laughing at his own joke, now.

"Jesus Christ, Tyler. That's awful."

"You love me."

"Uh huh." Sidney gives Tyler a few seconds to stop laughing, then continues. "Jamie seemed worried, so I just thought maybe, if it would help, we could just talk about sh-- stuff, whatever."

"Did he say what he was worried about?" Tyler's quieter when he says this, and Sidney thinks, maybe, Jamie was right to get in touch with him.

"No, just that he didn't know how to help and thought that maybe I could."

Tyler sighs. It's big, heavy, and feels like there's words that the sigh is keeping in.

"He wants me to make a family. Thinks I'm lonely and that's the solution."

Sidney lets out a huff of a laugh, "My friends, too."

"Yeah? They always on you to like, get a gir--boyfriend?"

"No," Sidney says a little more forcefully than he means to, "First, they don't know -- my family does, but you and Jamie are the only NHL guys who know, so like, you know, don't tell people." Tyler makes an offended noise, but Sidney speaks over him. "And second, they gave up on finding me a wife a long time ago. They just invite me to dinner constantly. It's sweet, don't get me wrong," Sidney hurries to explain this. He doesn't want Tyler to think he's ungrateful. "I just -- it's not always easy to be around families, you know?"

As he says this, it hits him that Tyler probably does know. He's a lot easier to get along with than Sidney is, but if all the families he's around are husbands and wives and kids, like it is for Sidney, then, yeah. Maybe Tyler does know.

"Yeah," Tyler says, "It's -- I mean, like, I don't have anything to complain about, you know. I could fall in love with a girl and make babies and shit, so like, it's not as bad as--not like being gay is bad, I just mean --"

Sidney's trying to figure out how to tell Tyler to calm down almost as soon as the sentence starts, and he finally settles on, "I don't think it's easier for you."

Tyler stops talking and Sidney lets the silence stand for a few seconds.

"Is that something you want?" Sidney asks, when he thinks that Tyler's breathing is back to normal.

"A wife and kids?"

Sidney makes a noise of assent -- doesn't want to interrupt Tyler again.

"Is it bad if I say no? Like I could have it and so not wanting it makes me, like, wrong, somehow?" Tyler says, and Sidney hears him rearranging himself on the couch. Sidney can almost picture Tyler pulling his legs up, tucking his toes under Marshall's belly.

"I don't know if I want it either," Sidney says.

"Well yeah, obviously--"

"No," Sidney says, rolling his eyes again, "Not a wife, but the whole family thing. Like I get that what the guys with families have is great and they love it, but I just," he sighs, frustrated, "I don't know if that's something that would ever work for me."

"Yeah?" Tyler's voice is kind of small, and Sidney suddenly feels a swell of protectiveness, sympathy, empathy.

"Yeah. The idea of a family is nice, but when I look at the families around me, none of them feel right."

"Right?" Tyler's voice is bright, now, excited. "Jamie doesn't get it -- he thinks I'm all lonely and shit because I don't have what he has, but I can't really picture it. I mean, I want something -- asshole made me realize that. But I don't know what that something looks like.

"Hmm," Sidney makes a mental note to thank Jamie for getting him to talk to Tyler. It's nice to talk to someone who gets it. "It's not that I want to be alone forever, but…" Sidney trails off, not sure how to finish the sentence. He's never been sure, and he's sad, for the first time, that he doesn’t know. He'd like to give Tyler an answer.

Tyler finishes the sentence for him. "But how do you get it without losing everything else."

"That's…depressing." Sidney wishes he had a dog he could cuddle right now, then thinks that Tyler might like to know that, so he tells him. "I can hear you cuddling your dogs and you should know it's unfair to do that when I can't."

Tyler laughs and it's open and loud and bright, and Sidney finds himself smiling in response.

"Come cuddle the puppies next time you guys are in town, then. They love meeting new people!" Tyler's invitation doesn't feel like he's saying it to be polite, but Sidney still doesn't like to impose. He probably won't take Tyler up on it. Tyler must hear something in Sidney's hesitation, because he doesn't even let Sidney answer. "I mean it, man. Come for dinner, drinks, dog cuddles -- please?"

Sidney finds he can't say no to that.

"Yeah, okay."


	4. a little liquor when you're feeling uncomfortable

_November_  

 

_You can do this._

_It's just a night out at a club. In Dallas. Where people have guns probably._

_It's fine. You've got this._

Sidney's staring his reflection down in the bathroom of his Dallas hotel room, gripping the edge of the counter like he's going to fly away if he lets go. 

He hears a knock on his door, and Geno's muffled voice calls out.

"Stop moping, Sid. Is bar time!"

Sidney rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the counter. He replies to Geno as he walks over to the door, "I'm _not_ moping."

He opens the door on the last word and finds himself face to face with a grinning Geno. Sidney can't help but scrunch up his face at the sight -- Geno is much too pleased to be have been given "Get Sid To The Club" duty.

"You look like you moping…"

"Only because _you_ make me mopey," Sidney grumbles, but smiles so Geno knows he's just joking. He sighs and grabs his jacket from where it was hanging, "I'm not moping; just psyching myself up."

"So you still come? Bar night with Seggs always fun."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. I told him I'd be there -- don't want to disappoint him."

Geno pats him on the shoulder and pulls him into a side-hug as they walk down the hallway. "Good! Anyushka say she tell Nika his Papa have boring friends if you not come."

Sidney pulls himself out of Geno's grasp and smiles at him, "Oh come on! That's not fair -- I already said I was coming. No need to bring the baby into it."

"I not bring baby -- Nika at home with Mama!" Geno replies, affecting a shocked tone.

Sidney punches him lightly, "Fuck off, Geno.  You can't fool me with the whole 'oh I don't understand English idioms' thing anymore."

"Still fun to try," Geno shrugs.

Sidney shakes his head, smiling fondly at Geno. "For you, anyways."

"Yes, always fun for me!" Geno pauses as they wait for their cab, then says, "Bar will be fun, Sid. Just relax."

"Hm," Sidney hums noncommittally, so Geno pulls him into another side-hug and shoves him into the car when it arrives.

"You see -- me and Seggs will buy you too much shitty booze then you not remember to be worried."

"Oh god," Sidney groans, remembering the last time he let Geno control his liquor intake, "just none of that sour shit this time, okay?"

"No promises," Geno laughs as Sid leans his head back against the headrest.

They pass the rest of the cab ride in friendly chatter, and Sidney almost forgets to be anxious, but as the cab slows to a stop in front of the club Jamie and Tyler had picked, he sees the all but interminable line of people trying to get in and feels his heartrate speed up.

He tries to regulate his breathing, but the closer they get to the club, the louder and closer everyone is. He takes a breath before they get ushered in past the line, and reminds himself that he's doing this for his friends.

The smile on Tyler's face when they get to the cordoned-off section where Tyler's already holding court _almost_ makes it worth it.

"You came!" Tyler shouts as he pulls Sidney into a hug, "Let me get you a drink!"

"I said I'd come," Sidney yells, trying to be heard over the music, "you didn't believe me?" He means to tease, but it comes out a little accusatory.

Tyler's face twitches a little, but never loses its smile, "Well," he leans into Sidney's space so he's talking into his ear, "I know it's not really your scene, so. Thanks for coming."

"Yeah, of course, Seggs." Sidney angles his face so that his voice carries to Tyler's ear, too. He realizes how intimate they look, so he takes a step back -- he doesn't expect to be disappointed by the space between them. He covers his shock by looking around, then asking, "So, what's on offer, tonight?"

"We've got some pitchers on the way, but I think…" Tyler cranes his neck over Sidney's shoulder, "Yeah, we lost Darth to the hot bartender. I'll be right back with the booze!"

Thankfully, neither Tyler nor Geno try to get him hammered, so he sits with a pint of beer, sipping slowly, but smiling so that Tyler stops asking him if he wants something different. Once Tyler is satisfied that Sidney has a drink he'll enjoy, he makes his way around the group, checking in with everyone who shows up and keeping people happy. Sidney's not _jealous_ of Tyler, but there is a part of him that wishes he could be that comfortable. Not only does Tyler look like he enjoys talking to people, he's also really good at it -- he leaves people laughing and smiling more often than not.

He loses track of Tyler for a while as he sits on a couch with Geno and Jamie. Jamie awkwardly thanks him for talking to Tyler and Sidney awkwardly thanks Jamie for getting them in touch and Geno laughs at them and calls them "Shy Canadian boys."

Occasionally, he'll hear Tyler's laughter over the music, and he'll spot him on the dance floor with someone different each time, but after an hour or so, Tyler flops onto the couch next to Sidney. He's a little sweaty, but he seems happy, and Sidney tries not to feel weird when Tyler leans his head against Sidney's shoulder.

"I suppose it's too much to ask for you to join me on the dance floor?" Tyler turns his face towards Sidney's, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath.

Geno overhears and laughs, "You not want Sid dancing -- he scare away all the girls."

"Hey!" Sidney exaggerates a pout, playing along, "I'm not that bad."  
  
"Not bad, just they scared of your ass, so big." He spreads out his hands and opens his eyes wide in a pantomime of shock. 

Sidney rolls his eyes, but grins when he feels Tyler giggling against his chest.

"Your ass is pretty terrifying, Sid," Tyler says, pushing himself up into a sitting position again. He reaches for the water pitcher and pours himself a drink.

A new DJ takes over the music, and suddenly the club is full of loud, electronic music and bright pulsing lights. It's all a bit much, but Tyler's still pressed up against Sidney, so he can't make his escape without it being awkward. No one seems invested in talking to him, though, so he just leans back and tunes out. Tyler asks Geno about Nikita and Anna -- he remembers their names, which Sidney can't help but find impressive. Tyler makes approving noises when Geno pulls out his phone to show him the billion pictures he has of his child, and Sidney doesn't realize he's been tapping his fingers against his leg until Tyler places his hand on top of Sidney's.

"Oh sorry," Sidney mumbles, not sure Tyler can hear him, but feeling kind of weird about it anyways -- he feels like he should apologize but he also doesn't really want to have to acknowledge that he's been caught twitching.

Tyler brushes his thumb against Sidney's fingers, as if to soothe him, then lifts it as he uses his hands to add to whatever story he's telling Geno and Jamie about something or other. So Sidney figures he's forgiven and tries to keep his hand still. He's so focused on his hand that he doesn't realize his leg has started jittering until Tyler's hand comes to rest on his thigh. This time, Tyler leaves his hand there for a few minutes, stroking his thumb along the side of Sidney's knee, and -- it helps. Sidney's still not really focusing on the conversation, still a little too overwhelmed by the music, but he doesn't feel as twitchy. He doesn't notice that Jamie and Geno have started having their own conversation, leaving Sidney and Tyler to themselves, until Tyler squeezes his leg to get his attention.

"Hey, you okay?" Tyler leans into Sidney, cutting him off from the rest of the club.

"Yeah, it's fine -- sorry." Sidney tries to sit up and be more engaged, but Tyler squeezes his leg again and interrupts him.

"No don't apologize, man -- you just seem like you're not really enjoying yourself."

"Well," Sidney shrugs and tries to make a joke out of it, "not my scene, like you said."

Tyler doesn't laugh, so Sidney sighs and answers seriously. "It's the music -- it's just a bit much."

"Hm," Tyler purses his lips and absentmindedly strokes his thumb along Sidney's knee again, "Wanna get out of here and meet my puppies?" He raises his eyebrows and grins, as though meeting his puppies is something scandalous.

Sidney can't help but laugh, but he shakes his head. "I don't want to take you away from this -- it's fine. I can just go back---"

Tyler interrupts him again, "Hey, I did invite you to meet them, before. I can come here any time. Come on!" Tyler stands up and holds out his hand to pull Sidney up off the couch. "Chubbs -- Geno! I'm gonna take Sid to meet the babies."

Geno and Jamie look over at Sidney and smile when he nods, confirming the plan.

Tyler shouts over his shoulder to Jamie as he's leaving, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Like there's anything you wouldn't do, Seggs," Jamie chirps and Sidney gets to his feet.

"Say hi to dog babies for me, Sid! Give hugs!" Geno pulls Sid into a bro-hug and pats him on the back, sending him on his way like he's a kid going to play with a friend.

It occurs to Sid that that's kind of exactly what just happened once they're outside and hailing a cab.

"I feel like I just got sent on a playdate…" Sidney says, a little incredulously.

Tyler laughs, loud and wild, tipping his head back like he's not worried that people will look at him.

"You complaining?" Tyler grins at Sidney, but there's a bit of uncertainty in his eyes that prompts Sidney to reply honestly.

"No, not at all."

"Cool," Tyler smiles up at Sidney and Sidney's heart-rate jumps in response.

 _You've got this_ , he thinks, as he follows Tyler into the cab. _It's just going to Tyler Seguin's house after you both came out to each other and no one else is invited. It's fine_.


	5. we should just kiss

_November_

As soon as they walk into the house, Tyler realizes that he doesn't have a fucking clue what to do with Sidney Crosby. 

He distracts them by calling the dogs into the living room and handing a pile of dog treats to Sid, figuring that'll give him a good ten minutes to come up with a plan.

"That one's Cash -- he's a sucker for attention -- and this one's Marshall. You can throw the treats -- don't let them trick you into thinking they won't chase after them. They're lazy, but they'll run to earn their treats if you make them."

Sid's face splits into a huge grin and Tyler's head goes a little light. People always talk about _his_ smile like it's not super fucking dorky but he never really understood what people meant until now. Sid's whole face just sort of scrunches and his smile takes over and it's awful how cute it is.

"They're adorable," Sid says as he crouches down to receive excited kisses from Cash, "little chubby, yeah?"

Tyler blushes -- the vet has definitely told him to stop feeding them as much, but they make this _face_ and he just can't say no. "Yeah, uh--"

"No," Sid looks up at Tyler, "it's sweet -- you must spoil them."

"I really should put them on a diet, but…" Tyler trails off as Marshall makes the exact face that is to blame for his extra weight.

"I don't blame you," Sid throws a treat for Marshall to catch out of the air, "I couldn't say no to that either."

Tyler's distracted from figuring out what to do with Sid by watching him play with the dogs. He's not afraid to push them around, playing on the ground with them and letting them bowl him over. He laughs loud and unrestrained and Tyler's kind of grateful he gets to see this.

 _How many people get to see this?_ The question kind of makes him sad.

He flops onto the couch and makes an "oof" noise when Cash jumps up onto his lap and settles himself against Tyler's chest. He's calling Cash a fat dork under his breath when he feels the couch dip. Sid is suddenly on the couch next to him, smiling at -- Cash, probably.

"Thanks for, uh," Sid says, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "I can handle being at a club, usually…"

He's embarrassed, Tyler realizes. It didn't occur to him that Sid would be embarrassed. Sid wasn't having fun, therefore they should leave -- it's pretty simple logic from where Tyler's standing. It takes him a few seconds to figure out how to reply and his face must do something because Sid looks down, away from Tyler and clears his throat.

"It's fine --" Tyler blurts, reaching for Sid's arm, "don't worry about it. You just looked like you weren't having fun, so…" _Fuck_. He's not sure how he messed this up, but now Sid's feeling awkward and he's bad at this and _fuck_.

"I know I'm boring, sorry. You didn't have to leave on my account." Sid's still not looking at Tyler, so Tyler motions for Marshall to get on the couch so at least Sid gets the dog cuddles he wanted.

"I --" Tyler sticks his face in Cash's fur, "Look -- I don't know how to explain this without sounding dumb."

Sid looks at him, now.

"You weren't having fun, and I wanted you to be happy -- I'd be having fun at the club, but I'll have fun here, too. I'm pretty easy, man." He says the last with a lewd grin, trying to break the tension, and it works. Sid smiles, then puts his hand on Marshall, who's shuffling around on the cushion next to Sid.

"That doesn't sound dumb." Sid's voice is soft, and he's smiling, so -- good. It's good. "I do really appreciate it. I get, uh, I guess overwhelmed? Sometimes? It's hard to focus when there's so much going on."

"Is that why you, uh," Tyler asks the question before he can stop himself, before he realizes it might be a little awkward to ask, but he's started so he's gotta keep going, now. "Is that why you…" He taps his hand on his thigh like Sid had been.

Sid blushes and looks away again and _dammit_. Before Tyler can panic too much about it, though, Sid actually answers him. "Yeah, it's weird, right? I've done it forever, though. It kind of anchors me -- helps me to focus on one thing instead of everything all at once."

"Huh," Tyler scratches behind Cash's ears. "Makes sense."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah -- I don't, uh," Tyler sighs, "I don't know what to say that won't make me sound like a dick, man." He leans his head against Cash, who's still sitting up on his lap like he isn't a giant dog.

Sid laughs, "You're doing fine, Tyler." He nudges Tyler's shoulder and his thumb brushes against Tyler's skin. Tyler realizes he wants Sidney to touch him again and that's…not awful, but it is also totally terrifying. 

"Wanna watch something while the dogs sit on us?" Tyler asks and is glad to get a small laugh in reply.

"Sure -- just let me know when you want me to head out and I'll grab a car back to the hotel."

"Yeah I guess you guys have an early flight out tomorrow?" Tyler can hear the disappointment in his voice -- hopes that Sid can't, because what is there even to be disappointed about? He invited Sid to come cuddle the puppies and that's what they're doing.

"Yeah," Sid sighs and rearranges Marshall so that he's leaning against him and as a result sits closer to Tyler. It's like Tyler can feel the inches between them and he wonders what would happen if he leaned over just a bit, too, wonders if Sid would move away or let them touch.

He taps through Netflix and starts Brooklyn-99 -- Jamie had been telling him about how funny it was, and it seemed like something nice and easy -- and distracting -- to have on. He doesn't expect to find it genuinely hilarious, but soon, he and Sid are both laughing out loud and Tyler almost forgets that if he just shifted a little bit, just leaned over, just moved his arm he could be----

Well. _Almost_ forgets.

Even though he was all handsy and shit at the club, it feels different here. It's not like he can blame it on being drunk because most of his buzz has worn off since they left -- and there isn't anyone around to make a show of it for. It's just them and his dogs.

They watch a few episodes -- or, well, a few episodes go by and Tyler kind of pays attention. It's hard not to focus on the movements of Sid's body as he settles further into the couch, or when he huffs out a laugh, or when he lifts his hand to scratch behind Marshall's ears. He's barely watching the show because he's so focused on how close he is to Sid, and that it kind of feels like Sid just spread his legs out a little so their knees touch. Tyler feels heat in his body as he tries to let his hand fall naturally from Cash's back onto the couch, _totally accidentally and not awkwardly at all_ landing near Sid's thigh.

Sid shuffles and Tyler's chest tightens -- _too much, too obvious_ \-- but then Sid's hand lands on the couch too and they aren't holding hands, aren't even really touching, but he can feel the heat from Sid's hand and he thinks _maybe_.

Maybe.

Someone in the show knocks on a door and the dogs both sit up, shoving against Sid and Tyler in their rush to greet the people that they're sure are at Tyler's front door.

"I really need to put those dogs on a diet," Tyler groans, rubbing a hand along his thigh where Cash had put all of his weight down -- not the hand that's on the couch, though. Tyler kind of doesn't want to move that hand _ever_.

"Yeah," Sid says, and his voice sounds a little distracted, like he's not really listening to Tyler. He clears his throat and lifts his hips to grab his phone from his pocket -- with the hand that's not _-not_ holding Tyler's hand _._

They're both just sitting there, hands on the couch, and Tyler feels like a fucking idiot, but he's not going to be the one to do anything.

Sid sighs, loud and long, "I should head back," and Tyler doesn't think he's imagining that Sid seems like he doesn't really want to leave.

"Yeah," Tyler says. He leans his head against the back of the couch and looks at Sid, who's frowning at his phone.

Sid opens an app and taps some things and Tyler can feel the tension in his arm as they both keep their hands where they are. It's not comfortable any more and Tyler's about to move his hand when Sid lifts his and, wow, Tyler was not expecting the disappointment that flows through his body at that.

He's definitely also not expecting Sid to place his hand on Tyler's. He squeezes, lightly, and brushes his thumb against Tyler's skin and _shit_. Tyler looks up at Sid, who's just looking at their hands.

"You're in Pittsburgh in a couple of months, right?" His voice is quiet and he's still not looking at Tyler, but he also hasn't stopped holding Tyler's hand.

"Yeah," Tyler whispers.

"I don't have a dog for you to cuddle," Sid sounds genuinely frustrated about this, and Tyler can't stop the laugh that comes out.

"That's okay -- we can just hang, yeah?"

Sid hums and pulls his hand away, and _god dammit_ Tyler realizes how that might sound, so he grabs Sid's hand and pulls both their hands onto Tyler's lap.

"I mean, we don't need a dog to spend time together. We can do this," he squeezes Sid's hand, "at yours?" It comes out as a question, even though he meant to reassure Sid.

"I," Sid pauses, "yeah." He smiles and Tyler smiles at him and they're both pretty goofy and Tyler's heart is still racing, but it feels good.

There's a beep on Sid's phone and he startles a little. Sid makes another unhappy sound as he starts to pull himself away. "That's my car -- I should, uh," for a second, Tyler doesn’t think Sid will let go of his hand, but then he does and Tyler feels cold and _that's weird_.

"I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" Tyler says as Sid puts his shoes on (still such a Canadian, he'd insisted on taking them off when they arrived). Tyler forgets how to be cool and finds himself leaning against a wall awkwardly, unsure what to do with his arms, which suddenly feel like they weigh about a hundred pounds.

Sid stands up and looks at Tyler and Tyler thinks he might step closer, but he doesn't -- just smiles and reaches out to squeeze Tyler's shoulder. "See you."

When Tyler locks the door behind Sid, he rests his head against it and closes his eyes _._

_I think I have a date with Sidney Crosby._

_Holy shit._


	6. can't get done with you

_November-December_

Tyler spends a good ten minutes quietly freaking out about the whole maybe probably having a date with Sidney Crosby in a couple of months and then panics a little more aggressively about whether or not he can tell Jamie. Like, there's no way he won't end up telling Jamie but maybe he should try not to? That could be the right thing to do: try. But Jamie's the one who told Sid to talk to him, so it's not like he's telling Jamie anything that he doesn't already know, right?

He doesn't want to text Sid to ask if he can tell Jamie because what if it's not a date? What if he's like "oh hey Sid can I tell Jamie that we made plans to hang out next time I'm in Pittsburgh?" and Sid is all "um ya obviously -- I invited him because this isn't a date omg did you think this was a date? That's hilarious I'm telling Geno about it right now."

Marshall whines, like he can hear inside Tyler's brain and is telling him to stop freaking out.

"Yeah, yeah, Marshall," Tyler says, patting Marshall's head, "I know he wouldn't say that." Tyler pauses, then: "I don't think Sid would ever say 'omg'."

He decides that he should probably go to bed and sleep before he makes any decisions about whether or not to ask Sid if it's a date, or whether or not to ask Jamie if he should ask Sid if it's a date. Thing is, he _knows_ it's a date. They held hands and made plans to hold hands again. That's a pretty strong sign of date-like activities. He knows this. But there's still a little part of his mind that says maybe it's just Sid trying to be supportive and perceptive of Tyler's need for physical affection. Maybe it's not a date, but Sid is, like, pretending that it is because he thinks it's his job or something. Or maybe Sid is lying and is making fun of him.

Tyler feels his heart race and he hast to sit down with his head between his legs to calm down. Cash takes the opportunity to lick his face, and it's annoying but it helps. Dogs are the best.

He hears the chime on his phone while he's contemplating whether or not it's weird if he lures his dog onto the bed with treats so that he can get cuddles until he falls asleep. He's reaching for the phone before he realizes it could be Sid messaging him to explain that he hopes Tyler didn't get the wrong message or something, and he almost doesn't look at the screen. But knowing is better than not. Hurting now is better than wondering. He steels himself to check his phone.

It's a snapchat message. Sid is a paranoid fucker.

 _I had fun tonight. Thanks for saving me from the bar._  

Tyler's trying to figure out how to reply when another message pops up.

_This is stupid but if I don't ask I'm going to worry about it for way too long. It's a date, right? I didn't read that wrong, did I?_

Tyler's face heats up in a blush and he has a hard time breathing for a second. If he were a teenage girl, he'd flop onto his bed and bury his face into his pillow. It occurs to him that there's a reason girls do this and it's to hide the stupid fucking smile so he does it and vows never to tell his sisters about it.

 **Yes if you want** , Tyler messages back. **It's a date :)**

He regrets the smiley face as soon as he sends it but before he can wallow in that for too long, he gets one back.

_:)_

**Can I tell Jamie?**

**I won't if you don't want me to, or I'll try not to but he'll probably guess and I'm really bad at lying to him**

_You can tell him_

**Thanks**

**I kind of already can't wait? Is that dumb?**

_Not dumb._

_Me too_

**You can't see but im smiling like an idiot right now**

_Same._

_I have to go to sleep now -- early flight_

_Good night_

**Night**

Tyler goes to bed with a stupid smile on his face and doesn't even worry about how he's going to fuck this up. For now.

He decides to wait to tell Jamie in person, partly because then there won't be, like, a paper trail and also because he kind of wants to see the look on Jamie's face. He trusts that Jamie won't be a dick about it -- but he also thinks Jamie's going to freak out a bit because he's always had a kind of hockey crush on Sid and knowing that Sid wants to kiss Tyler might actually break him.

He drives to Jamie's for a pre-practice breakfast because Jamie actually makes real food and doesn't seem to mind Tyler mooching off him (or is, at least, resigned to it by now). As soon as Jamie opens the door, Tyler can't stop himself.

"Who has two thumbs and has a date with Sidney Crosby? This guy!"

Jamie's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up into his ridiculously cute floppy bangs that never cooperate in the mornings.

"Shut. Up." Jamie's face goes all red and Tyler just starts laughing. "No way."

"Yes way," Tyler says pushing his way past Jamie and into his kitchen. "Looks like 87 can't get enough of this." He punctuates the sentence with a slap on his ass, wiggling it as he pours himself coffee and grabs a bite of scrambled egg from Jamie's plate on the counter.

"Oh my god." Jamie is still standing in his doorway, mouth agape and face still red.

"Holy shit, man." Tyler frowns -- maybe he misjudged Jamie? That'd suck. "You okay with this? Because like--"

"I'm not jealous," Jamie's voice comes out in a rush, "because I love Katie but like, I'm kind of jealous? I can't believe it took all of one fucking night for Sid to want to date you. Jesus."

Tyler laughs -- half at Jamie and half in relief that Jamie isn't mad.

"When?" He grabs a plate from his cupboard for Tyler to fill up with food.

Tyler pouts. "Not til we're in Pittsburgh next."  
  
"That's in, like, two months?" Jamie looks at him incredulously, "That's so far away!" 

"You don't have to tell me," Tyler says, "I'm the one who has to wait that long to kiss him."

Jamie blushes again, but he reaches out to hold Tyler's shoulders and looks him in the eye. "Shit, Seggs. I'm really happy for you." He shakes Tyler gently and grins widely. "Sidney Crosby!"

Tyler laughs and returns the grin. "Yeah. What the fuck, right?"

Every once in a while over the next few weeks, Tyler remembers that he has a date with Sid and his brain just stops working. He wishes that he had a conversation thread to read through to remind himself that Sid asked if it was a date and said he was looking forward to it, because it's really hard to convince himself that it's real. He and Sid message occasionally -- mostly like "good game" or "sweet goal" and sometimes things like "good morning" and "sorry about that shitty game, you okay?" so Tyler knows that he didn't imagine that he and Sid were, like, friends, at least. By the time their game rolls around, Tyler's sitting at about 80% sure that something's going to happen, 10% sure it'll be awkward and sexually frustrating, and 10% sure he imagined Sid asking him out entirely. When he says this to Jamie, Jamie laughs and Tyler punches his arm, but, yeah he kind of deserves that. He had no patience for Jamie's bullshit when he was all "I don't know if Katie liiiikes meeee," after every date, so fair's fair.

 

**********

Sid's sort of lying when he tells Tyler he's going to sleep. He does have a flight to catch, and he should go to bed early. He can't sleep, though.

He wasn't expecting to want to kiss Tyler. Well--okay there's always a kind of baseline buzz of wanting to kiss Tyler because Tyler is a Hot Man and Good At Hockey, but he wasn't expecting the pull that he felt once he and Tyler were on the couch. Tyler was a little flirty, sure, but Tyler's always flirty. He touches people like it's completely natural, unlike Sidney, who's had to learn -- over and over again -- that touching doesn't mean as much to other people as it does to him.

People think he doesn't like touching because he doesn't really do it off the ice, but that's not really it: touching is nice, but touching is intimate. Private. Team hugs and good-luck-ass-pats exist in the box that is hockey, but casual touching has never been easy for Sidney, because it never feels casual. Every touch has always been meaningful -- it caused a few awkward heartbreaks in Sidney's youth, misreading casual touches for something more.

So when Tyler put his hand on Sidney's thigh at the club, he assumed it was just, well, casual. But then, at Tyler's house, the air felt thick and every time Tyler moved, he moved closer to Sidney. It was simultaneously the most horrible, tense experience and the most invigorating. He doesn't know if he wants to jack off or work out or fall into his bed and cringe until he passes out.

But Tyler wanted it -- wants it -- too.

He felt the same pull that Sidney had, and -- Sidney's never had that, really. He's had hookups, sure, but not really since the NHL. The Olympics were…good. It's safe there, in a way that it can't ever be outside the Olympic campus. But the Olympics only happen every four years, and he just doesn’t need sex badly enough to risk sleeping with someone who'll -- use him.

But Tyler.

He wants Tyler, and Tyler ( _probably_ , his traitorous mind supplies) wants him back.

He imagines, briefly, what would have happened if he'd had the nerve to do something, to kiss Tyler, or even just to hold his hand sooner, longer. It's nice -- a little hot, but mostly nice.

He falls asleep imagining that Tyler's sleeping next to him and refuses to feel ashamed about it. But when he wakes up the next day, the anxiety sets in. Sidney has no idea how to interact with Tyler until they play next, until their probably-a-date. He tries messaging Tyler after his games, or when he catches something on highlights and feels stupid. He experiments with a "good morning" once and he feels so nervous in the hour it takes Tyler to reply (damn time zones) that he doesn't do it again.

Sometimes, Sidney wonders if he would be worse at hockey if he were better at people -- if, somehow, there's a finite amount of ability in his body and it's all dedicated to being a better hockey player. He doesn't usually regret it, but when he's staring at his phone, trying to figure out how to let Tyler know he's thinking of him without coming across as weird or awkward or stupid…well. It feels like blasphemy, but he regrets it a little. Even as he thinks it, he cringes -- he doesn't want to be ungrateful.

So he types out a message, complimenting Tyler on his goal in the last game, pockets his phone and vows not to stress about it until he has to send another message.


	7. kiss me in the doorway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (there is sex in this one)

 

_January_

By silent agreement, neither Sidney nor Tyler message each other the day of the game. They already made plans for Tyler to get a car to Sidney's house afterward, so there's no need -- Sidney still feels an itch to say something, to acknowledge that it's finally the day -- but: game day. 

They won't have much time together, because Tyler has a flight out the next morning, but they have the night -- if they want it.

Sidney's still only about half-sure that it's a date. Snapchat is awesome and he would have zero social life without it, but sometimes he wishes he could look through their message history to remind himself that Tyler's into him. He's nervous -- nervous enough that Geno asks him if he's okay after the game, so he nods and smiles and hopes that he looked convincing enough that Geno won't try to get him to talk about it.

He must manage, or maybe his face looks weird enough that Geno decides it's best to wait to talk to him another day, because Geno gives him a half-hug and tells him to rest up. He tries not to flinch when he remembers that -- best case -- he's not going to get much sleep tonight (or, he supposes, worst case: if it's awful and awkward he's not going to get any sleep either).

He rushes home to shower -- would rather sit in his sweat a little longer and have the privacy of his own bathroom -- and spends about twice as long as he'd like panicking about what clothes to wear. By the end of twenty minutes, there is a pile of clothing on his floor that he shoves into his closet -- he'll deal with them tomorrow -- and he's wearing his most comfortable jeans and a shirt that Tanger once told him "looks good." He's comfortable but, he thinks, looking at himself in the mirror before heading downstairs, he does looks good. Sidney takes a breath and tries to quell the rising tightness in his chest as he looks at the time on his phone. Five minutes until they said Tyler would show up. Five minutes for Sidney to sit and wait because it's not like he has the brain power to do anything else right now.

He's making his way down the stairs when the buzzer to let him know someone's at the gate goes off and he almost trips. He clutches the railing to regain his balance and tries not to rush to the security panel. He buzzes the car in, and he heads to the door, arriving a few seconds before Tyler knocks. He opens the door and--

And it's all he can do not to maul Tyler right there because if he thought Tyler was hot before, Tyler wearing a thin fucking v-neck and dark, low-slung pants _and standing in Sidney's doorway_ is even fucking hotter.

"Gonna let me in?" Tyler says. He's grinning and there's a little bit of a flush on his face. Nerves? Excitement? Second-hand embarrassment?

"Uh," Sidney's voice breaks a little, so he clears his throat and starts again. "Yeah, sorry, just --" He waits for Tyler to get in and closes the door behind him. "You, uh, look really good."

Sidney didn't mean to say it -- he was going to wait, get a feel for things. Maybe Tyler didn't want it to be a date anymore -- people are allowed to change their minds -- but he just couldn't stop his mouth from forming the words.

Tyler turns to face him and -- _oh thank god_ \-- his eyes are wide like he wasn't expecting that either, but he grins and the flush on his cheeks has spread to his chest.

"You too," Tyler says, "You look _really_ hot, actually."

Sidney feels his entire face heat up and he can't look Tyler in the eye, has no idea what to say to that. He gestures to the living room and watches awkwardly as Tyler sits down.

"Want, uh, a beer?" Sidney manages to get the words out, "I have some craft stuff."

"Sure," Tyler says easily, leaning back on the couch and spreading out his arms and legs, like he already feels at home.

Sidney walks to the kitchen and pulls out two beers, using the fridge to cool his face down before he heads back in the living room. He hands an opened bottle to Tyler and sits, a little primly, if he's being honest, on the cushion that has the least amount of Tyler on it.

"So." Tyler says after a pull at his beer.

"So. I have Netflix?" Sidney doesn't meant for it to be funny, but Tyler laughs anyways.

"Netflix and chill," Tyler explains between giggles.

Sidney's not completely ignorant; he didn't _need_ the explanation, but he plays along.

"What's Netflix and chill?"

"Uh," Tyler stops laughing, then gets the expression on his face that people get when they think they have to explain sex-related things to Sidney. "It's when you, um," he stammers, then picks at the label on his beer bottle, "invite someone to hang out and watch Netflix, but really you just want to have sex with them?"

As Tyler goes through the definition, Sidney realizes it was a mistake to make him explain it. Because now that's in the air and Sidney doesn't know how to move past it.

"Right. I, uh, actually knew that. I just," Sidney shrugs, "thought it would be funny to make you explain it."

"Right, yeah."

There's a pause as they both take a drink and don't look at each other, and Sidney's starting to regret all of this.

"This is awkward," Tyler says into the silence.

"Sorry." Sidney feels a little sick.

"Not your fault. I think…" Tyler trails off, and Sidney's not looking at him so he's not expecting to feel fingers brush his and he jumps at the touch. "Oh," Tyler makes a noise of surprise, "sorry --"

"No, I was just--" Sidney sighs. Then he turns his hand over and laces his fingers through Tyler's. "Surprised. I was just surprised."

"Can we, maybe, skip past the rest of the awkward?" Tyler squeezes his hand gently.

"What?" Sidney hates how his voice sounds, hates that everything sounds like it's coming through a foot of glass.

"I just," Tyler takes a deep breath and says the rest in a rush. "I kind of just want to kiss you right now and I don't want to wait until one of us gets the nerve to do it and I think you want it, because, well, you're holding my hand, but I just kind of want to get past this part where we're both terrified."

Sidney laughs, a small huff of breath, "I'm pretty sure this is you getting the nerve,"

"Yeah, well," Tyler ducks his head, "you gonna leave me hanging?" He bites his bottom lip -- Sidney can't tell if it's intentionally alluring or just a thing Tyler does.

"No," Sidney can't quite tell if he said it out loud, but it doesn't really matter because he's leaning towards Tyler as he says it and he reaches a hand behind Tyler's head to guide them into a kiss. It's a little smushed, at first, neither of them quite knowing how to angle themselves, who to lean against, but they don't stop. Sidney doesn't want to stop even if it means awkwardly half-leaning over Tyler on the couch. When he feels Tyler's back land against the back of the couch, he lets himself touch Tyler's chest with his other hand, dipping his fingers into the vee of the t-shirt, brushing his fingers along Tyler's collarbone. Tyler shivers when Sidney breaks their kiss to mouth along his jaw, his ear, his neck.

"Fuck," Tyler whispers, "I'm so glad I didn't imagine that you wanted this."

Sidney laughs, real and loud this time, "Me too, you have no idea."

"I think maybe I do." Tyler punctuates the sentence by pushing his hips up into Sidney's body.

Sidney groans and rests his head in the crook of Tyler's neck. He can almost taste him, then he realizes that he _can_ , if he wants to. So he kisses Tyler there, pressing his tongue against the skin, sucking a little. He doesn't want to leave a mark, not unless Tyler asks, but he doesn't want to stop _tasting_. He pulls a sound out of Tyler, small, a little high and needy, and it takes all of his energy to pull back and look at Tyler's face.

"Upstairs?" His eyes have trouble focusing, so he blinks a couple of times and watches Tyler's mouth.

"Yeah," Tyler bites his lip a little before he says the word and Sidney wants to be the one doing that, so he kisses Tyler again, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth before leaning back again.

Tyler's slumped on the couch, arms limp at his sides and his butt half-sliding off the couch, like he can't hold himself up on his own and Sidney thinks _I did that_ and has to stand up and turn around if he wants to make it to the bedroom.

He can hear Tyler walking behind him, isn't expecting Tyler's whistle as Sidney starts climbing the stairs.

"Nice ass!"

Sidney stops and looks back at Tyler, who's a couple of steps below him, fanning himself like an overheated southern lady. He tries to stop his grin from forming, but it's too hard, and he realizes that he doesn't actually _want_ to hide his reaction from Tyler. He lets Tyler see the blush on his cheeks before turning around and taking the steps two at a time to get to the bedroom faster.

When he gets into the bedroom, he turns around and pulls Tyler into his arms, pushing them up against the wall. The bed is right there, but he wants to take a moment to kiss Tyler here, pressing his body along Tyler's and stroking his hands up and down Tyler's arms. Tyler pushes against Sidney's body, then directs them to the bed. Before he can push Sidney onto the bed, Sidney stops, turns them around, and kneels on the floor. When he looks up at Tyler, he's amazed that he's the one who put the want on Tyler's face.

"I want," Sidney starts, "Can I -- blow you?"

"Fuck," Tyler almost falls onto the bed, " _yes_."

Sidney leans up, resting his hands on Tyler's thighs, squeezes once, twice, before stroking them -- he's mesmerized by the sight of his hands on Tyler's body and he half-forgets that he had a goal, here, but then Tyler makes this strangled groan and he looks up. Tyler's mouth is slack, but his hands are clutching the bedsheet so Sidney reaches for the button of his pants and unzips, tugging pants and tight, black briefs, _fuck_ , down when Tyler helpfully cants his hips upward. The move has the (unintended?) consequence of bringing Sidney face to, er, cock and he doesn't even really remember getting Tyler's pants off, but suddenly he's got them in his hands, so he drops them to his side.

He reaches for Tyler's cock and presses himself in between Tyler's legs. When he first gets his mouth on Tyler, it's a shock -- it's been a while since he's done this, been a while since he's felt like he could -- but the rhythm of it comes back to him and soon he's licking, sucking, meeting his hand with his lips, and responding to Tyler's small movements and sounds. Tyler likes when Sidney presses his tongue against the base of his cock, pushing his face into the join of his leg and sucking, lightly, as his hand rolls over the head of his cock. He spreads saliva and pre-come down Tyler's cock before swallowing down again and holding Tyler's balls in his hand. He presses his other hand against Tyler's hip, strokes down and squeezes his thigh. He realizes, belatedly, that he's pressing his fingers into Tyler's muscle in the same pattern he uses on himself and he has no idea what to do with that information.

He feels Tyler's hand on his head, gentle -- not a demand, not an instruction, just a touch. Tyler's fingers comb through his hair, push it back from Sidney's face, so he looks up and Tyler moves his hand down and traces a finger around Sidney's lips stretched around Tyler's cock.

"God fucking dammit you're hot," Tyler says, then laughs, "get up here; I want to kiss you again."

Sidney pushes himself up as Tyler lifts his shirt off and he stands there, dumbfounded, looking down at Tyler's naked body -- hard lines of muscle and ink contrasting with the soft smile on Tyler's face.

"Come on," Tyler whines a little, "you gonna get naked too?"

"Uhh," Sidney means to say something hot or witty or at least a word, but he doesn't. He takes shirt off, throwing it off into the same area he threw Tyler's pants and he scrambles to undo the button on his jeans when Tyler interrupts.  
  
"Wait--" Sidney has a moment of panic, but Tyler's face hasn't changed, is still flushed and interested, "Slowly -- I want to see." 

Sidney's heart jumps but he complies. He unbuttons his pants, then pauses to run his thumbs under his waistband before unzipping. He pushes down on his jeans until they fall to his knees -- he palms himself through his boxer-briefs, unable to tear his eyes from Tyler's mouth, then hooks his thumbs in and pushes down. He steps out of his pants and briefs and leans a knee on the bed in between Tyler's legs. Tyler pulls him into a kiss, then leads him onto the bed so that Sidney's body is over Tyler's. All Sidney can feel is Tyler's tongue in his mouth, Tyler's hand in his hair, the other gripping his side, pulling him closer. Sidney complies, presses his body along Tyler's, doesn't suppress the shiver when his cock pushes against Tyler. They keep kissing, tasting each other, moving from mouth to neck to jaw to chest and back, hips thrusting and pressing and stuttering. Maybe thirty seconds later, maybe ten minutes later, Tyler tugs on Sidney's hips until Sidney gets the message. He shifts so that his legs bracket Tyler's hips and their cocks are mostly aligned. Sidney swears when he realizes that the lube is not _quite_ in arms' reach and he has to lean almost out of balance to pull it out of his side-table. He pours it into his hand, then wraps his hand around Tyler's cock, letting his thumb brush against his own cock when he strokes.

"Sid," Tyler moans, "I want to feel you. Come on."

Sidney readjusts so that his hand is wrapped around both of their cocks and it's a little awkward but _holy shit_ it feels good to thrust into his hand and feel Tyler's cock. It feels even better to feel the aborted movements that Tyler makes, trying to thrust up, but struggling against the weight of Sidney's body. Sidney rocks into this fist, cupping his other hand over the head of Tyler's cock so that his palm presses against it every time their bodies move.

Tyler's hands are on Sidney's thighs and he can feel each finger as Tyler's grips him, pulling and pushing with him.

"Fuck, don't stop," Tyler breathes out, "don't stop."

He keeps his rhythm for another minute or so, drops it briefly to suck at Tyler's neck again, to press his face against Tyler and breathe him in, and the new angle is just right because he just can't wait any longer and ruts against Tyler, fast and frenzied. Tyler's breath hitches, then he lets out another half-moan that sounds like "fuck, Sid" and comes into Sidney's hand.

"Ty--" Sidney doesn’t know why he said his name, doesn't know what he wants, but Tyler pulls Sidney against him and mouths at his ear and _shit that was it that's what he wanted_ and he shakes through his orgasm.

He collapses onto Tyler, but shifts at the "oof" he gets in response.

"You're heavy, man," Tyler says into his ear. He doesn't push him off further, though, just shifts so that Sidney's weight is mostly on the bed, but his body is still lined up with Tyler's.

"'M s'posed t'be heavy," Sidney says, or tries to, his face pressed into the pillow, "m'hock'y pl'yer."

"Uh huh," Tyler curls his arm around Sidney's waist, tugging until Sidney turns and they're face-to-face. "You're cute when you've just come."

"Jesus," Sidney laughs, "I don't think anyone's _ever_ said that to me."

"Good," Tyler says, then makes a face like he didn't quite mean to say that, "uh, sorry, that came out a bit possessive."

Sidney doesn't reply, just kisses Tyler, enjoying the tingle in his lips and the taste, now familiar, of Tyler's mouth.

"We should--" Tyler motions to his body when they break the kiss.

"Yeah, gimme a sec -- I'll be right back." Sidney pushes himself off the bed and tries not to feel self-conscious as he walks to the washroom. He can feel Tyler's eyes on his body and it's -- nice. It's nice to know that someone's looking at him because they want to, because they like to. Nice to know someone's really seeing his body, instead of letting their eyes pass over him like background scenery. It's nice, but it's also kind of terrifying. When he comes back with a warm washcloth, he watches Tyler watching him and the goosebumps on his skin aren't just from the cold.

Once they're mostly cleaned up, the worst of the come and lube wiped away, Tyler pulls Sidney to his side and under the covers.

"You okay with cuddling for a bit?" Tyler asks and his voice is light and joking, but he's shaking a little so Sidney doesn't hesitate to pull Tyler against him, doesn't think twice about spooning him and wrapping his arms around him. Sidney tucks his face into the spot on Tyler's neck that's quickly becoming his favourite and drops a kiss there before resting his head against his pillow again.

Tyler holds Sidney's arms around him and sighs, a warm, happy sound. "I like you."

"Mmm," Sidney sighs into Tyler's neck.

"Hey," Tyler wiggles his hips against Sidney, "you're supposed to say you like me too."

"Mhm," Sidney feels the pull of sleep, but lifts his head to press a kiss to Tyler's jaw, "I like you too."

"Next time," Tyler starts, then pauses. Sidney waits for him to continue, but after thirty seconds he hasn't said anything.

"Next time?" Sidney squeezes Tyler gently.

"If there's a next time," Tyler's voice is low, soft, "I want to take my time with you."

"Okay," Sidney kisses Tyler's shoulder.

"Okay to taking my time, or okay to next time?" Tyler sounds -- tense, so Sidney nuzzles him and tries to comfort him.

"Yes to both, yes to you." He feels Tyler relax at those words and smiles, hopes Tyler can feel the smile on his lips, since they're touching his skin.

"Cool."

"Mmm," Sidney sighs, before falling asleep to the feeling to Tyler in his arms, of Tyler's hands on him, with the smell of Tyler's hair and skin and sweat _right there_.

*******

Tyler falls asleep to the sound of Sid's heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing. Sid hasn't let go of him, which -- to be honest -- Tyler's kind of surprised by. He didn't think Sid was the cuddling kind -- obviously the guy likes being touched, that was obvious to Tyler from the first time he was around drunk-on-victory Sid, who _loves hugs_. But he's also pretty closed off, generally -- world championships aside.  But this…

This is being _held_. This isn't a hug, a greeting, a friendly touch. This is bringing someone into the space of your body and letting them breathe the same air as you. It's pretty fucking mindblowing.

It's a few hours later when Tyler is woken up by Sid shifting on the bed behind him. He freezes up, worried in that moment that Sid is trying to leave his own bedroom to get away from Tyler, but Sid leans over him and kisses his cheekbone.

"Arm's falling asleep -- switch with me?" His voice is sleepy and warm, and he strokes his hand down Tyler's arm, soothing him.

"Yeah," Tyler tries not to shiver, but the fading pressure of Sid's fingers is overwhelming. It doesn't really make sense that _not_ feeling Sid's fingers is somehow _too much_ , but it is and he's eager to flip himself over if only to get his arms around Sid and reconnect them.

He tucks himself along Sid's body, burying his arm under Sid's pillow and wrapping the other one around Sid's chest. He rubs his thumb, lightly, along Sid's collarbone and doesn't really mean to start something except, well, they've only got the night before Tyler has to leave, so once he realizes that Sid's not falling right back asleep, he lowers his hand down his chest, rests it on his stomach and slowly slowly moves his hand to Sid's cock. He takes his time, waits to hear a huff of frustration from Sid before he touches Sid's cock with any real pressure.

Tyler spends a few minutes learning Sid's reactions, learning what makes Sid shiver or groan, and he pushes himself up so that he can watch Sid. He wants to see what makes his eyes flutter shut, what gets him to pull his bottom lip into his teeth. It's mesmerizing. His body is so responsive, every touch seems to shatter through muscle and bone and it hardly takes more than a hint of pressure or pain or softness for Sid to react.

Soon, though, Tyler's hard too and he pushes up against Sid's ass, half-unintentionally, half-doing-exactly-what-he's-fantasized-about-for-fucking-ever. When he does, Sid lets out a shuddering breath and leans forward, groping along the bedside for something -- for lube, Tyler realizes, when Sid makes a grunt of victory.

"Here," Sid says, twisting to slick up Tyler's cock. He pulls Tyler in close behind him again and says, "fuck my thighs?" It's a question but it feels like an order, because Tyler can't say no to anything that Sid asks for in that voice. Needy, desperate, a little embarrassed, but wanting -- so much desire.

"God, yes," Tyler hurries to comply, pushing his cock in between Sid's thighs -- _lube is awesome_ , he thinks as his cock slides in, just enough friction to feel, but smooth and easy. Sid tenses his muscles and pushes back onto Tyler's cock and -- god -- for a second it looks like he's fucking Sid, like he's inside him and, _wow_.

Tyler reaches for Sid's cock again and lets Sid dictate the rhythm. It's slow, almost tortuous, but he can feel the pleasure building each time he pushes into the warm heat of Sid's body. He leans back down, shoving the hand that was holding him up under Sid's body, pulling him closer, close enough that Tyler can kiss his cheekbone, his jaw, his neck. He's whispering stuff, breathy and kind of out of his mind, into Sid's ear. Stuff like "Beautiful like this" and "fuck you feel amazing" and "I want to do this again" and "I want you" and probably other things that are embarrassing enough that his mind doesn't let him realize he said them.

Sid brings his hands down to his cock, adding his grip to Tyler's, pushing Tyler's hand down to his balls where Tyler can feel his cock when it pushes through. Sid's rhythm shatters and Tyler just holds on as Sid thrusts onto Tyler's cock, then into his hand, and he listens -- listens -- for the soft whimper Sid makes when he comes. Tyler pushes into Sid a few more times, then pulls out enough to get a hand on his cock, stroking himself like he was touching Sid and he barely hears Sid mumble, "You could come on me."

"Yeah?" Tyler's voice is shaky, on edge.

"Yeah -- so hot. Please?" Sid turns over onto his back, laying himself open like a canvas and Tyler's not going to turn that down, so he pushes himself up on to his knees and reaches his other hand to Sid's face. He strokes along a cheekbone, an eyebrow, down Sid's nose and he'd feel stupid if it didn't feel so _necessary_. When his finger reaches Sid's lips, Sid darts out his tongue to lick the pad of his finger, then opens his mouth, letting Tyler's finger in. He sucks, lightly, tongue moving like it did on his cock and, yeah, that's enough. Tyler's stroke speeds up and he comes -- on Sid's body, with his fingers in his mouth, with his name on his tongue.

"Fuck," Tyler says when he flops onto the bed. "Fuck."

"Mmm. Coherent." Sid mumbles.

"You're one to talk."

Sid leans over the bed and reaches around until he finds his boxers, uses them to wipe the come from his hands and stomach then throws them somewhere near his closet.

"Don't think that gets you out of being the big spoon," Sid says, pressing a kiss to Tyler's lips before turning around again and slotting himself along Tyler's body.

"Such high maintenance," Tyler sighs. He pulls Sid close to him, rests his palm over Sid's heart.

He can't make falling asleep to Sid's heartbeat a habit.

*********

 

Tyler wakes up a few minutes before his alarm -- the sunlight coming through Sid's blinds lands on his eyes, and he scrunches his face to block out the light and makes an unhappy noise.

"'Morning," he hears Sid's voice, gravelly from sleep, then Sid twists around to face Tyler. His eyes are still closed, and his lips are red and a little swollen. Tyler lets himself look, lets himself track the movement of light over Sid's face.  When Tyler doesn't reply, Sid opens his eyes and sees Tyler watching him.

"Good morning," he tucks his face into a pillow to direct his morning breath away from Sid, but he's pretty sure Sid can see his smile. He hopes Sid can see it, anyways. It -- matters. He wants Sid to know he's happy to be here, doesn't regret whatever this is, whatever it ends up being.

"Still have a few minutes until your alarm."

"Not long enough for--" Tyler stops, not sure what the rules for the morning are, but Sid pulls him into a hug and presses his face against Tyler's neck. He did that a few times the night before, must like it -- Tyler likes it too, likes the shiver of breath against his skin, the soft warmth of Sid's tongue as he tastes him, the press of his lips.

"No," Sid sounds disappointed, "but this is nice, too. I like--"

Tyler waits for Sidney continue, watches his hand on Sid's biceps, watches his fingers press into the skin, feels Sidney's muscle tense in response.

"I like holding you." It sounds like a confession, like a secret, so Tyler scoots closer so he can kiss Sid, even with morning breath, without the heat of the night before. It's a slow, tender kiss, and Tyler feels his lips pull into a smile.

"I like it when you hold me," Tyler says against Sid's mouth.

"I want to do this again," Sid says, in a rush -- so fast, almost too quiet to hear.

"Me too. Fuck, me too." Tyler kisses Sid again, trying to show Sid how much he wants it, because maybe his words aren't enough, but Tyler's body has always been enough even when words let him down. Sid's hands press against Tyler's back and he feels himself pulled towards Sid's chest. Sid hooks a leg over Tyler's hip and tugs him closer until they're tucked into each other, warm under the blankets.

Tyler's alarm beeps and they both groan. "I have to get back to the hotel."

"Yeah," Sid takes a deep breath, "that sucks."

"Yeah," Tyler smiles, because yeah, it sucks, but it's nice that Sid thinks it sucks, too. "Next time…"

"I'm in Nashville in a couple of weeks," Sidney says into Tyler's neck.

"And I'm in Washington next month."

Tyler can feel Sid's smile against his skin.

 


	8. dirty mind dirty mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (there is also sex in this one)

_March_

One night, in between the dates where Tyler's schedule and Sid's schedule match up, Tyler's scrolling through his instagram and liking all the cute dog pics he can find when he gets a notification on snapchat from Sid. 

**I can't wait to see you again**

Tyler can't help himself: _you want to kiiiisss mee_

**Constantly**

Tyler kind of expected some jokey reply, but that felt kind of real. It also felt kind of -- sexy? How is one kind of weird word sexy?

**I'm always thinking of kissing you.**

**I think about doing more than that.**

_Holy shit_ , Tyler thinks _. It_ was  _sexy._

Sidney Crosby might be sexting him.

He replies, pushing a little, but fairly sure he knows how this goes: _Wanna tell me what you'd do if you were here?_

There's a pause but Tyler doesn't panic yet. He'll panic in approximately thirty seconds, but sexting has a rhythm and he feels pretty confident that--

There's a picture. There's a picture of Sid in his bathroom mirror. There's a picture of Sid just in his boxers standing in his bathroom taking a picture of that for Tyler. Tyler's brain shorts for a second, then _immediately_ gets with the program. He's sent Sid a couple of shirtless mirror selfies, but Sidney's never replied in kind, so he stopped. It's not for everyone, and Sid's a private guy, so he just assumed that Sid wasn't into it. But _this_. This is….wow. This is almost too much.

**I'd want to get you naked. Want to touch you.**

Tyler leans his head back against his headboard and closes his eyes. When he opens them, the message is gone, but another one is in its place:

**Want to get my mouth on you again**

**Want to taste you**

Shit -- Sid's surprisingly good at sexting? Tyler's on his way to hard, so he pushes his sweats down and strokes himself a couple of times. He figures he owes Sid a response, so he takes an arty-angled picture of his abs and just the hint of his cock (can't give it _all_ up in the first shot). He's not too proud to admit he tenses his muscles a bit to make the vee of his hips stand out a little more.

_Yeah? You like sucking me?_

**Fuck you're hot**

**Yes I like sucking you, jesus.**

Only Sid could sound annoyed and turned on all at once.

_What else would you do_

Tyler's stroking himself again, slowly -- waiting for Sid's reply. Waiting to see if maybe he'll get another shot of Sid, maybe with less material in the way. There's still most of a month until they planned to meet up again and Tyler knew he was looking forward to it, but suddenly it feels like an impossible amount of time to wait.

_Would you fuck me?_

There's another thirty seconds, so Tyler's expecting to get a picture. He doesn't expect to open the snap and for it to be a video. A _video_. Tyler forces his brain to focus because he's only got ten seconds and he is not missing _any_ of it. It's an angle like Tyler's last picture, but the camera moves down, a little shaky. Sidney's obviously holding his phone with one hand because _his other hand is on his cock and jesus fucking christ._

Tyler tries to burn into his brain the image of Sid's hand wrapped around his cock, the head disappearing into his fist. There's a soft hitch of breath right at the end of the video and maybe Tyler imagined it, but maybe he didn't because it sounds just like he did before--

 _Fuck,_ Tyler thinks, stroking himself with a firmer grip.

**If you want me to, I'd fuck you. Like to get my tongue on you first**

Tyler swears and tightens his grip on his cock. He can't come just yet because he wants to send Sid a picture of his stomach after the fact and Sid can't know it took a fucking ten second video and two sentences to get him to come.

It's definitely too hard to type, so he takes a picture of his hand around his cock and hopes that Sid gets the idea.

The picture he gets in response is Sid's hand on his stomach, covered in come and Tyler takes a second to be annoyed that Sid beat him (ha) to it, and then speeds his hand up as he drops his phone onto the bed. He reaches his free hand to his chest and presses his palm against his nipple. He thrusts up into his hand and thinks about Sid jerking off because of him, Sid coming because of him and thinks about how it felt to be in the room when Sid made that quiet little breathy noise. Tyler grunts as he comes and feels around on the bed for the phone.

 **You coming for me?** Is the message he sees before it disappears into nothing. Tyler snaps a picture of his come-covered abs and lays on the bed while his heartrate slows.

**Soon**

_Can't wait_

Tyler gets up after a few minutes and cleans himself off. The reality of what just happened finally sinks in when he sees himself in his bathroom mirror.

He reaches for his phone and types out: _I can't believe I just sexted Sidney Crosby_

**Fuck you :)**

Tyler can't resist; Sid set him up too perfectly: _promise?_

He gets a video in response and Tyler grins as he watches the short clip of Sidney lying on his pillow in a darkish room, rolling his eyes.

**Promise. Good night Tyler.**

_Good night._


	9. useless part//useless heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (this one is a bit sad and maybe Jamie is too mean, but it's okay)

_June_

 

"I can't believe he's not coming to visit you this month," Jamie says as he walks into Tyler's kitchen. Tyler had been looking forward to Sid's visit, but Sid had some sponsor press thing come up last minute and they rescheduled their sexcation for the next time they had a couple of free days. 

"I can?" Tyler makes a face at Jamie -- he's been saying stuff like this for a while now, half-snide comments about how Sid doesn't do this or Sid isn't saying that or whatever.

"You were so excited about your stupid vacation--"

" _Sex_ cation," Tyler says.

"I'm not calling it that. You were so excited and he just cancels?" Jamie looks genuinely upset, so Tyler puts down his glass and looks at him.

"He didn't just 'cancel'," Tyler uses air quotes because he knows it'll bug Jamie, "He has a fucking job that, I shouldn't have to remind you, is kind of a pain in the ass to schedule around. I'm disappointed, yeah, but so is he. We've already rescheduled, and we're both fine with it."

"How?" Jamie raises his voice a little, and Tyler raises his eyebrows in response. "How can you be fine with it? Does he even--? Are you just some--" Jamie shakes his head, cutting off what he was going to say.

"Some _what_ , Jamie?" Tyler asks. He's clenching his jaw and he can feel his heart-rate speed up. He feels tight and hot all over and, for a second, goes a little woozy. He rests his hand on the counter to balance himself.

"Nothing, never mind." Jamie says under his breath and he turns to walk out of the kitchen.

"No, fuck off, you can't just 'never mind' me." Tyler surprises himself with how angry he sounds. Marshall and Cash both whine, so Tyler walks over to them and rubs their ears to let them know they aren't in trouble. "Just -- fucking stop it."

Jamie turns around slowly and looks at him like he grew a second head -- Tyler doesn't get angry, not off the ice, anyways. His dumb face is all dumb and slack and he's just staring at Tyler.

"I just can't with this anymore -- you've got to stop making me feel like what I have with Sid isn't enough. It is enough." Tyler's head goes light again, so he pulls a chair out and sits down at the table. He doesn't make himself look at Jamie.

"I just--" Jamie starts, then cuts himself off. "Shit. I just want you to have the best, Tyler -- and this thing with Sid it doesn't--"

"I know," Tyler spits out, "I know it doesn't look like what you have. It doesn't look like anything you'd be happy with, but come on, Jamie. _I'm not you_." He enunciates each word in the last sentence, speaking slowly so it sinks in. "Just because my life doesn't look like yours doesn't mean it's bad." Tyler cringes at how stupid that sounds, how childish, but he doesn't know how else to say it.

"I didn't mean that--" Jamie says, softly. Tyler can hear the regret, knows that Jamie was just being protective, but it still hurt and he doesn't know how else to get Jamie to see that.

"I know -- you don't mean a lot of things, but -- shit," Tyler shakes his head, still not looking at Jamie, "Do you need some more lessons on how to not be an asshole straight dude?"

"Fuck off," Jamie says, "I'm trying."

"Oh _great_ ," Tyler rolls his eyes, "you're trying. Awesome, thanks, man. That makes everything okay."

Jamie swears under his breath, "I'm sorry. I really am -- but are you really happy with things the way they are?" Jamie spreads his arms wide, as if to encompass a house that doesn't have Sid's stuff all over it, like Katie's stuff is all over Jamie's. "With only ever seeing him once a month _at most_?"

"Yes," Tyler practically hisses the word. "I am. He is too -- we're happy like this and I get that you don't get it but…I tell you I'm happy, and you don't trust me."

Jamie doesn't reply and -- that's probably a good thing. It gives Tyler a second to catch his breath, and he places his hand on his thigh.  
  
"We have our own lives, our own time." It's hard for Tyler to say this out loud, but he forces himself to speak. "He's always there when I need him -- he's just a phone call, a text message, a fucking _shirtless selfie_ away, and I'm there for him too. When it works, we see each other in person and it's the best, Jamie. It's home when we're together, but it's home when we're apart, too. It works for us."

"But you should," Jamie sighs, "I don't know, _fight_ or something. Your lives should change, you should," he waves his arms around, gesturing, "fucking move heaven and earth to make time for each other…" Jamie trails off and plops down on the kitchen chair.

"Don't," Tyler says through clenched teeth, "don't ever say that again. You're my best friend, but don't ever say that to me again. You don't think I fight? You don't think this is hard? Maybe -- no," Tyler stops Jamie from interrupting, "You think we could just go on fucking NBC tomorrow and be like 'Oh hey by the way, it's your boys Tyler Seguin and Sidney Crosby, here. We touch each other's dicks sometimes and kiss each other a lot.' and there wouldn't be at least a small explosion? We don't get to have normal. This is what we have." Tyler breathes and presses against his leg, remembering how it felt to have Sid press his rhythm there. "You think we should turn our lives inside out for each other, but what you don't get is that our lives are already inside out. Every day we can't tell the world -- fuck, every day we can't tell our _teammates_ that we l--" Tyler stops himself. He's not going to say that to Jamie before he says it to Sid, "That we're together, our lives are inside out, upside down, whatever. But when we talk to each other -- whether we're in the same room or not -- we get to be right side up for once."

"I'm sorry," Jamie whispers, and Tyler looks up to see Jamie with his head in his hands, across the table.

"I don't need to fucking _try harder_ \-- my life is different, I have changed. It just didn't change in the way you thought it would. If you can't deal with that," Tyler's voice wavers and he stops talking so he doesn't have to hear it break.

"I can," Jamie says in a rush, "I can deal with it. I didn't understand, I don't--" he sighs again, "Fuck, I'm bad at this." He says the last in a whisper, almost to himself and Tyler's anger just dissipates because this is Jamie, and he _is_ bad at this.

"Yeah, you suck."

Jamie looks up at him, wounded, until he sees the half-grin on Tyler's face.

"Yeah."

They sit there in silence for a few moments, then Jamie clears his throat. "I really am sorry. You're happy?"

"Yes."

"Then so am I. I don't," he pauses, "really get it. I don't know if I ever will. I don't know how you do it, being apart from him so much." Tyler's about to interrupt and tell him this is a shitty apology, but Jamie continues. "But that's my problem, not yours. I trust you, Ty. You're happy." Jamie has a stupid smile on his face, and god Tyler is glad his friend is kind of a doofus.

"Thanks." Tyler sighs and reaches across the table to pat Jamie's hand, "I," Tyler yawns, "I'm fucking beat, though. I kind of just need to call Sid and go to sleep, yeah?" He pulls out his phone and looks up at Jamie.

"Yeah," Jamie smiles, "I didn't see it before." Tyler raises an eyebrow in question, "That smile -- you have a Sid smile."

Tyler blushes and rolls his eyes at the same time and Jamie stands up and walks around the table to pull Tyler into a hug.

"I'm glad you're happy."

"Me too," Tyler squeezes Jamie lightly and pulls out of the hug. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Jamie leans back and squeezes Tyler's shoulders, "I'll see you tomorrow. I'll bring you the baconiest donut I can find."

"You're definitely forgiven, then." Tyler grins. He's wiped, he's still a little sad and still a little mad, but Jamie loves him and Jamie will eventually understand. "Now scoot," he shoves Jamie lightly and taps him on the ass when he turns around, "get out so I can talk to my boyfriend."

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving."

Tyler watches as Jamie heads out the door to his truck and dials Sid's number as soon as Jamie's out of earshot.

"Hey," Sid answers after a couple of rings.

"Hey," Tyler feels all the tension in his body fade away, "I had a shitty day."

"Wanna tell me about it?" Sid's voice in his ear is, well, just awesome.

"Yeah, I do."


	10. meet me halfway

 

_June_

 

When he sees Tyler's name show up on his cell-phone, Sidney's heart does a bit of a stutter. He's pleased -- always -- to see that Tyler's thinking about him, but Tyler doesn't often call. Tyler doesn't love talking on the phone, says it's hard to know what, exactly, is being said when he can't look at Sidney, can't know that Sidney can see his face. So they stick to text messages for day-to-day stuff and make Skype dates when they want to have a longer conversation. 

Tyler calling means that something came up -- something that makes Tyler want to talk to Sidney and hear his voice. So it's probably…not good. For a second, he worries that Tyler's been traded again, and just as quickly dismisses it as irrational panic. But he's not going to get answers unless he picks up, so he does.

"Hey," Sidney says, settling himself into his couch.

"Hey." Tyler's voice is quiet and a little shaky. "I had a shitty day." His voice wavers a bit at the end of his sentence and Sidney's body tenses in response.

"Wanna tell me about it?" He tries to make his voice calm, soothing. He doesn't know how well he masked his own anxiety, but he doesn't want Tyler to feel like he has to comfort Sidney.

"Yeah, I do."

Sidney waits for Tyler to speak, but Tyler's pause goes on for a dozen or so seconds.

"Something happen?" Sid listens for signs of where Tyler is. He hears the jingle of a dog collar, so probably at home. That's good.

"Just Jamie," Tyler lets out a sigh. "It sucks." A pause. "I know he's not right, I know that he doesn’t know how I feel, but -- we're happy, right? You're happy? With us?"

Sidney's shocked into silence -- doesn't know how to put into words how he feels about Tyler.

"Sid?" Tyler's voice is small, "you there?"

"Yeah," Sidney breathes out, "Yes, I'm happy. I'm so happy, Tyler. You make me happy. Are you?" It hurts him to say those words, and he has to pull them out of his body because he's so afraid that Tyler will say no.

"Yeah, I'm happy."

Tyler still sounds sad, though.

"What's wrong, then? I thought you said Jamie was cool with…" Sidney trails off, letting Tyler fill in the blanks: with us, with me, with the whole _queer_ thing.

"Yeah, he just thinks we don't spend enough time together."

For a moment, Sidney is confused -- he's always thinking of Tyler, always being reminded of him, sending him a message, setting aside a book or a movie because he thinks Tyler will like them. He's always with Tyler, even when they aren't in the same city. But that's the thing, Sidney realizes.

"Because we don't live together?" Sidney understands, now, why Tyler sounds so vulnerable.

"Sort of."

"But we don't want to live together." It's a conversation they've had before. Neither is willing to give up hockey, and neither wants the other to give up hockey for them. Maybe, someday, sometime when they've got a different kind of life, they'll make a different decision.

"I know, but he made it seem like that meant we weren't," Tyler trails off a bit and Sidney hears the whuff that means one of the dogs has made Tyler into a dog-pillow. "That we weren't doing enough or something."

Sidney stays silent, taking that information in. It hurts, he finds. It hurts to hear that someone thinks he isn't doing enough to love Tyler.

"I told him he was an asshole." Tyler laughs, but it's not his happy laugh. It's a painful sound.

"But…?"

"But I need to hear you say that he's wrong." Tyler's voice feels like it's a million miles away.

"He's so wrong, Tyler. What we have -- it's perfect for us. I love it."

They let the word hang in the air between them, between Dallas and Pittsburgh, between Sid's mouth and Tyler's ears.

"I love you,"  Sidney breathes into the phone. "I love you no matter where we live."

Tyler takes in a deep breath, then lets it out in a sigh.

"I thought I was going to beat you to saying it first." Sidney can hear the smile in Tyler's voice. "But I love you, too, Sid."

Sidney doesn’t expect to feel the words hit him like they do, but he's glad he's sitting when he hears them.

They both fall silent, listening to the other breathing over the line.

"Feel better?" Sidney says after a minute.

"Yeah," Tyler yawns, "thanks."

"Get some sleep." Sidney doesn't try to stop his voice from sounding fond.

"Good night," Tyler says. "I love you."

"I love you," Sidney replies. "Good night."

Sidney waits for the dial tone before hanging up and clutches the phone in his hands before getting up to get ready for bed.

His phone dings when he's brushing his teeth.

<3

 

 


	11. don't let me go tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heavily inspired by "A Photograph" by James Schuyler: https://books.google.ca/books?id=5qkCnE9yP5cC&lpg=PA1&pg=PA167#v=onepage&q&f=false

_August_

 

They manage to get three weeks in August together at Sid's house in Cole Harbour. It's a beautiful town and the water is fantastic. The sex is _also_ fantastic. It's nice to have more than a night together, knowing they can wake up and spend the day fucking or lazing around and neither of them has to get a flight back anywhere.

They also have their first real, big argument, because Sid doesn't want to introduce Tyler to his family and while Tyler isn't, like, dying to do the whole family thing he's still kinda pissed that Sid is clearly ashamed of him.

Tyler storms off and goes for an angry walk outside before he says something stupid like "Well if you're so ashamed of me then we should break up," because he can feel it on the tip of his tongue but he _really_ doesn't want to say it. So instead he says "I need some space. Have dinner without me," and walks outside to find a secluded spot to mope.

After an hour of going through pretend arguments with Sid, saying super witty things that he'd never think up on the spot, he walks back to the house and lets himself in.

"I'm sorry," Sid is sitting on the couch where Tyler left him, and he's looking up at Tyler with eyes that look like they could have been crying. "I'm not ashamed of you."

"I know," Tyler flops onto the couch next to Sid and lays his head in Sid's lap. Sid absently rests a hand in Tyler's hair.

"I do want you to know my family. I want them to love you like I do. I just," Sid pauses, but keeps stroking Tyler's head. "It's scary."

"Yeah," Tyler rests a hand on Sid's knee and presses his fingers into the muscle.

"I keep thinking what if you meet them and they're horrible and you decide I'm not worth it? Or if it breaks whatever magic has been keeping us happy. Or they decide that knowing I'm gay is one thing but seeing me with a boyfriend who's also a hockey player is too much?" Sid's leg starts jittering as he's talking so Tyler presses his fingers in a little harder.

"We don't have to meet them -- we can keep this just for us, for now." There's no magic keeping them happy, but there's something special about their time here. It's private, just theirs. It's time when they can make breakfast together or yell at sports while they eat a meal they prepared. It's time when they work out in the same room, and when they fall asleep half-way through a movie, leaning into each other on the couch. They have time where they don't have to fit in a month of touches into an evening and that's worth keeping.

"Maybe next time they visit me in Pittsburgh, if you're free, you could…" Sid strokes the side of Tyler's face.

"Yeah," Tyler looks up at Sid and lets him see his smile. "I love you." He says it more because he needs to know Sid heard him say it, and less because he thinks Sid needs to hear it.

"I love you."

"Why do you say it like that?" Tyler asks, turning himself around so the back of his head is in Sid's lap.

"Like what?" Sid cocks his head like a confused puppy and Tyler is so fond, he reaches up and strokes Sid's lips with his thumb.

"You never say 'I love you too'. You always just say 'I love you' when I say it first." Tyler can't stop touching Sid's face, can't seem to bring his hand away.

"Hm," Sid leans his face into Tyler's palm, presses an absent-minded kiss there. "I guess…It always felt like saying 'I love you too' is an obligation. Like," he pauses, considering his words, "Like saying 'you're welcome' after someone says 'thank you.'" Sid puts his hand on Tyler's chest. "I don't want you to think I'm just saying it to say it."

"Huh." Tyler doesn't know how to respond, so he just threads his fingers through Sid's so that their hands are both resting on Tyler's chest. He brushes his thumb along Sid's lower lip one last time, then lowers that hand onto Sid's too. "You really think about that kind of thing." Tyler keeps his voice quiet, almost a whisper, because this suddenly feels like a fragile moment.

"It's…important." Sid says, and he looks at Tyler. "You're important to me."

"You're important to me." Tyler replies.

Sid smiles his goofy, crooked smile and Tyler's so happy he has to bury his face into Sid's stomach because otherwise he thinks his whole face might just fall apart. They turn on an old game -- Sid has tape from games from the 70s where everything is weird, and they've been watching them bit by bit -- and shout at the screen together for a few hours. Sid doesn't let go of Tyler's hand, not even when Tyler falls asleep, because Tyler's woken up by Sid nudging him awake and tugging at his arm to get him to sit up.

"C'mon babe," Sid murmurs, a smile on his face, "let's go to bed."

So, yeah, the sex that they get to have in Sid's secluded Nova Scotia hideaway is pretty great, but Tyler thinks he'll remember these moments more.


	12. my heart is my armour

_September_

Sid's grinning at the picture of Marshall lying splayed out on the bed, hips spread wide and paws in the air, that Tyler texted him this morning when he feels Geno sit down beside him in his stall. He puts his phone away, still unsure how to deal with the whole Tyler thing around his friends. Geno knows he's seeing someone -- knows it's a guy. Just…doesn't know that it's Tyler. 

"Secret friend send nice message?" Geno bumps shoulders with Sid.

"Yeah, just…silly stuff." Sid doesn't think he has to explain to Geno how much those little messages mean. The things that say, more than anything else, 'you're on my mind.'

"Think you ever introduce?" Geno asks while he's fiddling with some tape, giving Sidney the space to react and respond in his own time.

"I -- some day, maybe." Sid doesn't like that Geno doesn't know, but he's still so scared.

"Is someone I know, yes?" Geno rests his knee against Sidney's -- a reminder to be calm.

"Not on the team," Sidney rushes to explain.

Geno laughs. "Of course not on team, even _you_ not that good at secret."

"Yeah," Sid smiles, but he's still irrationally nervous. "You know him."

"He play?" Geno's almost whispering now and Sid definitely wishes Geno didn't decide to do this in the locker room, but he gets it. They're safe in here, even if Sid's not out to his team, doesn't know if he can be. This is their space, their two stalls and the floor at their feet. It's not secret, it's not private, but this is where he and Geno are.

"Yeah." Sid can't even look at Geno when he says it, so he tugs his laces tighter, even though he's going to have to re-do them before he gets on the ice.

"I like meet sometime."

"Yeah." Sid has expended all of his energy in panic, so he doesn't have much more to say than that.

"Flower know about him?" Sid groans -- Geno's not done.

"Um, that he plays or that he's my, um, you know?"

"Both?" Geno says.

"Not," Sid stammers, "not really."

"Should tell. He happy to hear if you happy." Geno grins like that's all there is to it, and -- the thing about Geno is that when you're around him, it does feel like that's all there is to it.

"Okay."

"Good." Geno pats Sid on the back. "We have good skate now."

"Sure," Sidney laughs, and his eyes fall on Flower, who's watching him -- who knows how long -- so he smiles at him and gets a surprised smile back.

He catches up to Flower after practice and almost loses his nerve, but he wants to be able to tell people. Wants people to know that he's happy, that he's sharing his life with someone in a way he didn't think he could, or wanted to.

"Hey, are you and Véro free this evening?"

"Well, other than _les enfants_ , we're free." Flower stops walking and looks carefully at Sidney. "Want to join us for dinner?"

"Uh, I didn't mean to invite myself over, I just thought--" Sidney gets an unpleasant roil in his stomach, but Flower interrupts.

"I'm pretty sure I just invited you over, so I don't know where you're getting the whole 'invite myself over' thing from." He smiles like he's pulled a prank, so Sid takes the out that's offered.

"Then, yes." He grins, "I can bring wine?"

"Sure. _Dix-huit heures_?"

Sid does some mental calculation, then nods. "See you at … six?"

"Your French sucks, Sid. But yes," Flower thumps his arm. "See you then."

Sidney rubs his arm, pretending like it hurt just to make Flower laugh, then heads toward his car. He takes a breath when he sits in the driver's seat, then pulls out his phone to message Tyler.

 _I'm gonna tell flower that I'm gay tonight_  

Tyler's probably still at his morning skate, so Sidney doesn't expect an immediate reply. He shoves the phone back in his pocket and drives home.

Once he's home, he falls into a nap, and when he wakes up he sees that Tyler responded.

**That's awesome :) You can tell him who I am if you want**

**No pressure**

Sidney braces for the panic that should arise when he imagines telling someone that he's dating Tyler, but it doesn't come up. He pushes a little, tries to imagine telling Flower that he's dating Tyler Seguin and doesn't feel the deep tight pain that he associates with the fear -- abstract, vague, general but still all-consuming-- of what could happen if people knew.

 _Maybe, he replies. Geno might have guessed._  

**What did he say?**

_Just guessed that you played hockey._

  **oh what an insight.**

Sid can hear the sarcasm dripping in Tyler's voice, even though he's just reading text.

 _Shut up it's the way he said it_  

 **:P**  

 **nervous?**  

_Sort of? Not panicking yet._

**Call if you need anything**

_I'll call as soon as I get back from talking to hi_  m

**< 3**

 

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of errands and phone calls and the various things that make up a day, and soon enough it's six and Sidney's at Flower's door with a bottle of wine and a heart that's beating so fast he's not entirely sure it's healthy.

" _Bonsoir_!" Véro opens the door and does the double-kiss thing. Normally this is a terrifying social event, because Sidney can never remember which cheek goes first and he's worried that he'll accidentally kiss someone on the lips that way (he's seen it happen; it's awkward), but he's distracted enough that he just follows Véro's lead. " _Marc-André joue avec les p'tits -- entrez, entrez_." She shoos him into the kitchen, where she takes the bottle from him, making an approving moue at the label. " _C'est un beau vin, merci, Sidney_."

"Uh," Sidney smiles a little shakily, " _De rien_." He cringes as his accent, can hear the rounded r's and east coast vowels, but he powers through. " _Merci de me, uh, invité_."

Véro laughs, kindly, "It's _'de m'avoir invité,_ ' but you're close!"

"Don't humour him, Véro." Flower shouts from the living room. "His French is awful and there's no point even trying."

"He won't get better if he doesn't practice, Marc-André." She rolls her eyes and smiles at Sidney. "Would you like me to open the wine now? Dinner should be ready in a few minutes."

"Sure," Sidney leans awkwardly on the island, not sure where to put his body, "Can I help with anything?"

" _Non non_ , have a seat -- _les enfants!_ " She shouts, " _Venez manger -- ammenez votre père_."

Sidney enjoys a raucous dinner with two young children and one grown one. Flower keeps throwing food at Sidney and making Estelle laugh (and making Véro roll her eyes). Scarlett keeps talking in a strange French/English/Toddler language that Sidney isn't even sure her parents understand, but he tries to keep up and nod when she seems to be saying something to her.

It's nice. They're a happy family, and their home is warm, and Flower looks like he's in heaven when he carts his girls upstairs and puts them to bed, amid shrieks of laughter.

"He's a good dad," Sidney says when he and Véro settle in the living room.

" _Ouai, y'est_ okay," Véro's French has become less and less proper as the evening goes on, and Sidney's proud that he's mostly able to untangle her Franglais.

"I'm the best," Flower announces, pulling Véro into a hug and covering her face in kisses.

She laughs and half-heartedly pushes him away, but she lets him plant one more smacking kiss on her cheek before shoving him onto the couch.

Sidney figures that the brief silence that follows, as Flower fills his glass with wine and Véro watches him with a smile, is the best chance he's going to get to determine the conversation, so he clears his throat and hopes that intelligible words come out.

"I --" _nope_ , he thinks, _try again_. "Um."

Flower and Véro look at him, and Véro reaches for her husband's hand.

"Thank you for having me over," Sidney forces the words out. "I really enjoyed tonight. I -- there's something I wanted to tell you?"

"Okay," Flower frowns, looks at his wife, then back at Sid. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Sidney waves a hand dismissively.

"Not dying?" Flower's still frowning, but Sidney knows him well enough to know that he's on his way to a joke.

"No, I'm not dying. Let me finish?" Sidney takes a gulp of wine and watches Véro smack Flower on the arm, "I just wanted to tell you both that I'm, uh," _dammit_ , he thinks, _still can't say it without the fucking "uh"_ , "gay. And I'm seeing someone and we're really happy and he doesn't live here and we're both really busy and dedicated to our jobs but we make it work and it's great. Good. It's … good."

Flower and Véro sit in silence as he babbles, then Véro puts a hand over her mouth and makes a small "oh" noise.

"Oh, Sidney," she looks like she's tearing up, and the second it takes her to finish the sentence is almost unbearable "that's wonderful."

"It explains a lot," Flower grumbles, then smiles when Véro scowls at him, "I just mean you've been different lately -- in a good way. You're happy."

It's not a question, and Sidney's amazed how grateful he is that it isn't. There's no doubt from Flower or Véro -- they just believe him. There's no questions; no, "are you sure?" or "have you tried dating women?" or "why not find someone who'll make your life easier?" Just trust.

"It's, uh, not a big deal," Sidney says, and Flower scoffs, "I just -- not many people know. And. I wanted to tell you."

"Well," Flower shifts a little uncomfortably on the couch, then huffs out a breath and stands up. He holds his arms out for a hug and waits for Sidney to stand up too, "thank you." It's a short hug, complete with bro-back-pats, but it's nice. Véro stands up too and gives Sidney a similarly brief (but bro-less) hug and when she pulls back she looks up and pats his cheek.

"Do we get to meet him sometime?" She has a glint in her eyes like she's got plans for whoever it is Sidney's dating and suddenly his panic shifts from "oh my god everyone will hate me" to "oh shit what stories does Véro have about me?"

"Um, we're taking that kind of thing slow -- we're both, uh," Sidney tries to figure out how to end the sentence without lying, and ends up just shrugging. Flower raises an eyebrow and Sidney thinks he might have guessed that the sentence ended "hockey players."

"Whenever you're ready," Flower grips his shoulder, "we'll be happy to have you both over for dinner."

"Thanks," Sidney knows he's got a stupid grin on his face, but he's just so relieved.

His smile turns into a yawn and a wail makes its way downstairs from the girls' room, so Sidney goes in for another hug from each of the Fleurys and leaves them to their family.

"Thank you," he says again when Flower walks him to the door.

"Of course."

Sidney waits until he gets home to call Tyler, and he's pleased when it barely takes a ring for Tyler to pick up.

"Hey -- did it-- how did it go?" Tyler seems a little breathless, and Sidney cringes -- he should have messaged Tyler right away to let him know it was okay.

"Great -- it was great." He toes his shoes off and drops his keys on the bureau by the door. He holds the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he pours himself a glass of water and listens to the sound of Tyler's voice.

"Oh good. I mean, I wasn't worried, really, just -- well, okay I was a little worried, but I didn't think they'd be dicks about it."

"Yeah," Sidney smiles and hopes Tyler can hear it. "I didn't tell them who you were, but they said that they want to meet you."

"I _have_ met them before," Tyler teases, "but yeah, whenever you're ready."

Sidney settles himself into bed, under the covers -- he's not ready to sleep yet, but he likes being in bed when he's talking to Tyler. It's the room where they've shared their most intimate moments: sex, yes, but also secrets, confessions, hurts, joys, and sorrows.

As long as Tyler's voice is in his ear, it feels like home.


End file.
